


of no service to the stars

by BloodyMary



Series: Forbears of what will be [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Dawn of the Jedi (Comics)
Genre: Crime story - Freeform, Daegen's Ranger days, I guess romance too, M/M, Murder Mystery, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2019-09-25 12:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17121554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodyMary/pseuds/BloodyMary
Summary: Since not even the most brilliant mind can be made Master without doing a stint as a Ranger, Daegen Lok has to do it too. And solve crime. But at least his partner is attractive.





	1. Where our Heroes Meet and Find Each Other to be Agreeable

Acaadi had found his new partner lounging lazily in the sun, reading something on a datapad. He had to give it Ranger Lok, for a human, he was certainly very decorative when sitting like that—with his shirt off to expose skin to the sun.

The day was quite sunny, but fortunately the brown rock of Akar Kesh's walls didn't reflect the sun too strongly. Ranger Lok had picked one of the gardens located on the large terraces that lined the temple as the place to read, and specifically, he’d taken up one of the strategically placed benches.

“I hate to interrupt-“ he said, and Ranger Lok looked up at him, lips quirking into a sardonic smile.

“Then don’t,” he replied in a pleasant low voice. “You will feel much better, and I will be able to read in peace.”

Acaadi barely managed to stifle an amused snort. Not everyone would have found the reply funny, he supposed, but he found it rather endearing.

“I suppose I could just pick you up and carry you to my ship,” he answered as he placed his hands on his hips, so that Ranger Lok could have a good look at him and appreciate just how much bigger Acaadi was than him.

Ranger Lok looked up again, amber eyes giving him an appreciative look. “I suppose you could, but it wouldn’t be very dignified. I’ll have to pass.”

He rose lazily, stretching his limbs out and giving Acaadi ample time to admire how his muscles moved under his skin as he did. He wasn’t just good-looking for a human, he was also rather big too—and he clearly was very aware of his own attractiveness given the way he grinned at Acaadi.

“So, you’re Acaadi?” he asked. “I have to say I’m quite pleasantly surprised.”

“Likewise,” Acaadi answered, folding his arms across his chest and grinning at the other man.

“Then I’m happy to know that I’ll be working with a man of taste,” Daegen replied, inclining his head.

“Please don’t compliment me so, or I’ll swoon,” Acaadi laughed.

“Was that supposed to be a warning?” Daegen answered. “Because it sounds more like you’re trying to tempt me.”

Acaadi chuckled. “I think it’s whatever you want it to be.”

“My, talk to me like that some more and I will swoon,” Daegen replied, though he was yet to display any signs of swooning. Perhaps because it would interfere with walking towards Acaadi’s ship.

“I’m sure it would be quite the sight,” Acaadi answered. He was thoroughly enjoying the conversation—it wasn’t all that often that he found someone who amused him so much. The fact that Daegen was more than just easy on the eyes also helped, he had to admit.

“Oh, it would be more than just that,” Daegen replied, grinning at Acaadi. “But I can’t treat you to something so magnificent just like that. I’d need to be… motivated.”

“Perhaps I can show you how convincing I can be after we find out what case we’re assigned to,” Acaadi replied matching Daegen’s grin.

“Duty before pleasure, I suppose,” Daegen said and Acaadi thought he heard a hint of disappointment in his tone. It seemed that he had also made an impression.

  

* * *

 

 

Daegen and Acaadi sat in front of the holoprojector set in the table on Acaadi’s ship. The room was drowning in blue illumination, making the shelves on the wall seem somehow unwordly, while ghostly figures of Shikaakwan officers of House Ryo gathered evidence in what seemed to be a remote alley. One of them, a stout togrutan woman, was turned towards Daegen and Acaadi.

Her horns were angled forwards, giving her a more aggressive appearance, and her headband had the crest of House Ryo affixed to it.

“Quain Ark,” she said, shaking her head. Her voice was low, and there was a weary undertone to her speech. “You probably heard of him—they called him Skywalker, he was the current winner of Mawr’s annual wind-race.”

“I’ve heard of him,” Acaadi replied. “The golden child of the colony of Liels. And he was Force sensitive, but he never trained on Tython. Not that he needed that to win races. He was also quite the heart-breaker, wasn’t he?”

The togruta—Teyne—snorted. “More like bed-breaker.”

“I consider myself now fully aware of why we’re involved,” Daegen said dryly, “so perhaps we can move on to the other details—how did he die?”

Teyne glanced to her side, where the body had been found. It had been taken away by then, but the outline that marked where it had fallen was still visible. There was blood pooled around the base of the skull, and some around the torso.

“Two shots,” Teyne replied, as she walked around the outline. “One in the back, the other in the back of his head. The latter took quite the chunk out of his skull.”

“Can we tell if Ark was running away?” Acaadi asked, peering at the outline on the ground.

“No, he wasn’t,” Teyne replied, shaking her head. Her headtails jiggled slightly with the motion. “Poor bastard never saw his death coming.”

“And a charming man like this will have a line of people who’d pay good money to be able to shoot him in the back—or in the face,” Daegen said, leaning forward slightly. “Which is rather unhelpful of him, but I suppose we can’t really do anything about that.”

“Oh, we have a list the size of a small house,” Teyne snorted. “Not a helpful man at all, that one.”

She might have continued in a similar vein, had one of the technicians not interrupted her. He was a slim twi’lek with a triangular face and thin lekku that were curled protectively around his throat.

“We’ve found a foot print,” he said. From the tone of his voice, Daegen surmised that the foot print was either smudged badly or completely innocuous. “Looks like a humanoid foot—fairly large size. The pattern on the soles is smudged, but we’re making a print and will be hopefully able to make something out of it.”

Teyne’s expression spoke then—and it said very clearly just how much she hated cases like this. Daegen could see why—the attention that the death of a famous racer would attract would be exactly the sort that lead to idiotic people asking idiotic questions only to write self-important columns on how the case was obvious and the murder had been committed as sacrifice by some cult.

 

* * *

 

 

The Ryo fortress towered over the landscape of the capital city. Personally, Daegen found it to be pretentious—who exactly thought that a cross between a ziggurat and a layer cake was a good idea had been lost to history (or possibly books on architecture hidden in the depths of Bodhi), but clearly the long-forgotten builders had a lot to answer for.

Unfortunately for his aesthetic senses, this was exactly where the guard of House Ryo had their laboratories, archives and barracks, so Daegen and Acaadi would not escape visiting the monstrosity.

Teyne was already waiting for them in an area that had been designated for Rangers staying on Shikaakwa. It was, mercifully, not adorned to the tastes of the ruling house, which as far as Daegen could tell ran towards golden food as well as golden women and men, almost naked and mostly spherical.

In contrast the part designated for visiting Tythonians had been decorated with a fresco of a bucolic landscape. It was somewhat saccharine, though it seemed that someone had decided to remedy that by adding a stalking zhurung, its feline muzzle showing distinct glee at the sight of a herd of sheep.

Daegen was quite certain that whoever painted it had never seen a sheep—those were small, white woolly things and none of them had curved horns, very unlike those he’d seen in Stav Kesh.

“It’s just this wing,” Teyne said. She had been waiting for them in front of a door, which now hissed open to admit them inside a meeting room. “The Viper and the Vixen were not shy about their fetishes.”

The meeting room had a fresco painted on the wall too: an attractive rotund, devaronian woman holding a scale, with various fruit spilling from one scale, while sausages hung from another. With her other hand, she was pulling down her blindfold, so she could wink at the visitor.

A table, almost comically simple, stood in the middle. There was a holocaster built into the middle, as well as several computers. Chairs were scattered around it, and Teyne had placed a large folder in front of herself.

“That knowledge has made my life complete,” Acaadi said dryly as he leaned against a wall—the stomach of the fresco to be precise, just under her left breast.

“The Guard thanks the Stallion daily for convincing his father to move us here without redecorating,” Teyne replied. She even kept a straight face as she spoke, which was an achievement that spoke of duranium self-control and discipline.

“I’m sure that the aesthetic experience is… unique, especially if repeated daily,” Daegen said wincing. “You have my condolences.”

“Oh, one gets used to it,” Teyne answered with a shrug. Then, her expression turned more serious. “In any case, you’re not here to deal with crimes against good taste. However, since I already mentioned him—the Stallion might make an appearance. He knew Ark personally. Just smile and nod—he’ll get bored after a while and leave.”

“They weren’t close friends then?” Daegen asked. It seemed that the eldest son of House Ryo had been working very hard on making himself unpopular, given that even his own subordinates spoke of him with thinly-veiled disdain. He also recalled that the messages his mother had received from friends and family on Shikaakwa had a similar tone.

“They shared interests,” Teyne said dryly.

Daegen glanced towards Acaadi, but decided not to comment on this. He could guess what the woman meant, and was also starting to wonder if she hadn’t called for them for other reasons than Ark being Force-sensitive.

“Well, let us get to work,” Acaadi said, baring his teeth in what could have been a grin or a threat-display. “We don’t want the heir to the throne to think we're lazy, now, do we?”

“He won’t care all that much,” Teyne said, “but my coroner might be displeased if we’re not ready for him.”

 

* * *

 

The coroner had arrived a few minutes after they settled down in the conference room with mugs of steaming java. He was a middle-aged devaronian with orange skin and bushy mutton-chops. Daegen didn’t fail to notice the appreciative look he’d given the fresco as he entered. He perched on the remaining chair, a datapad clutched in his hands like some sort of talisman.

“Is there something we don’t know?” Daegen asked, turning towards the coroner.

“You could say that, Ranger” the coroner replied. “The head-wound was not a bullet wound. It’s too large. And the damage to the brain seems to be regular.”

Daegen cocked his head to the side for a moment, before sitting up straight. Acaadi could see then that his expression had become thoughtful. “The brainstem, correct?”

“Indeed,” the devaronian replied. “The damage is quite extensive. I can’t say yet how much of it is missing. However, I can tell that it was removed post mortem.”

“It couldn’t be a simple thing?” Teyne groaned. “Or as simple as a high-profile murder can be. It had to be _weird._ ”

Acaadi shook his head. “Or we’re being misdirected.”

Teyne’s expression turned even sourer. “Which would mean we’re dealing with someone who thinks they’re smart.”

“They might even be smart,” Daegen said with a shrug. “Ultimately though, we have no idea yet. Did the autopsy reveal anything else?”

“We’re waiting to find out what he ate before death,” the coroner replied. “And if you don’t mind, I will go back to studying the head wound.”

He rose then, gathering his datapad and hurried out. Daegen seemed to be considering following him—Acaadi now remembered that he was apparently involved in some sort of research involving brains—but eventually the other Ranger settled back down and turned to Teyne.

“So, what do you have for us?” he asked. “Or is this the moment when you announce that you’re washing your hands of the case and going on leave to a beach on Kalimahr?”

“I wish,” Teyne snorted as she adjusted her headband. “No, we know that our brave hero had visited a charming little place called Mama Yesha’s four hours before his body was found. It’s a joy house with quite the reputation—all quite legal and very high-end. Some of the more popular staff earn more in a day then I do in a month.”

“Lovely, at least we’re investigating the death of a jerk with style,” Daegen commented. “Was he a frequent visitor?”

Teyne shook her head. “He spent too much time in the colonies to qualify for that. And he wouldn't visit when he had a girlfriend with him.”

“I suppose Ark has one thing going for him,” Acaadi said, as he rose from his chair. “We won’t be bored while investigating his death.” 

 

* * *

 

 

Teyne had left shortly after to attend to other guard matters. It wasn’t like people stopped committing other crimes once a famous person died, after all, and now she had two Rangers on the case. Acaadi rose from the chair and stretched idly. Most furniture was not made with togorians in mind, unless it was made specifically for them.

“No, no, don’t stop,” Daegen said, as he leaned on his elbow. His cheek was resting on his fist and he was grinning. “I was enjoying how much the view had improved all of a sudden here.”

“It’s hardly fair to expect me to provide you with entertainment, while I have to suffer all that,” Acaadi laughed, as he gestured towards the door. A plump golden elbow was poking out from around the corner, almost fading into the equally gold patterns on the wall.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have fur and can’t exactly take off my shirt,” Daegen replied with a a faux-mournful expression. “Besides, I’d rather perform for a one-person audience—without any chance viewers interrupting.”

Acaadi shook his head. “I hope I’m the kind of audience you’d like then, because I’m going to ask for a performance later. In private.”

“Well see,” Daegen replied with a chuckle, as he got up himself. “But first, we should see this joy house and find out more about our friend Ark. He seems like such an interesting sort.”

Acaadi snorted. “You can say that. Then again, wind-racing doesn’t exactly attract the dull, careful type.”

“No, I suppose you have to have something of a death-wish to do that,” Daegen replied. “Although I suppose, this was not the death Ark would have wanted.”

“If he was planning on committing suicide, it certainly was a very elaborate method,” Acaadi said, as he scratched behind his ear. “I suppose we could be dealing with some sort of insane thrill-seeker game gone very wrong, but that almost sounds like the last episode of a dying crime holo.”

“Do career Rangers watch those?” Daegen asked.

“They can be quite amusing,” Acaadi replied. “And the worse ones make for good competitions of spot the mistake.” He shrugged. “Let’s get going, shall we?”


	2. Where Our Heroes Investigate Various Ends of Society

The location of Mama Yesha’s was apparently historic—the eponymous Yesha had died long ago, but had left a thriving business behind. It took some more years for her joy house to reach the status of a reputable business for the refined, exclusive and most importantly well-off clientele.

Still, Shikaakwa being Shikaakwa, the joy house remained in the quarter where it was originally founded, and kept its name. With time, the neighbouring buildings had been bought out and elegant restaurants and other establishments sprouted, ready to provide the esteemed—and not so esteemed, but wealthy—guests with other forms of entertainment.

Or so the story went.

Daegen was a little sceptical, but he wasn’t about to argue with an information pamphlet that had been handed out to him by a skittish receptionist, who had now retreated behind her desk and was watching him and Acaadi nervously, as they waited for Ark’s escort to grace them with their presence.

The interior design also went for respectable Shikaakwan style, which meant dark furniture and colourful tapestries on the walls. The tapestries were woven to depict scenes of seduction, though in keeping with the respectable theme, all of the participants were dressed. A few books with titles such as “Art of Love” and “Passionate Adventures!” had been lain on the tables, in case someone needed a quick refresher, it seemed.

It took several more minutes of Daegen absent-mindedly correcting the style of the pamphlet in his head for her to finally arrive. She was close to what Daegen had expected—petite with big doe-like eyes and youthful features that could easily make her appear inexperienced. Her dark hair was in slight disarray, curling around her face and snaking down her shoulders, but it was the only sign of disarray in her appearance—her clothes were a surprisingly modest layered dress. Although perhaps it was her day off, or she simply had the sense not to flaunt the goods while being interrogated by Rangers.

She radiated unease in the Force. In itself, that was far from unexpected. The receptionist had been the same.

“We’d like to talk somewhere more private,” Daegen said. “I’m sure some of your guests might be entertained, but we’re not here to spread rumours.”

“O-of course,” the woman answered. “Please follow me. My n-name- My name is Ulla.”

She walked briskly towards one of the doors that once opened, revealed what appeared to be an office. Another woman, a middle-aged twi’lek, rose from behind a massive desk, her expression set in a disapproving frown.

The wall behind her was filled with shelves containing what appeared to be ledgers and holotapes. A lone flowerpot stood in the corner, its occupant valiantly trying to make up for being the only plant in the room by growing to a monstrous size.

“Hold on, one moment-“ the twi’lek accountant started to say, when Acaadi motioned to his badge.

“Ranger business,” he said in bland voice. The woman took a look at him and Daegen, and then walked out with as much dignity as one retreating at high speed can muster.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Daegen told Ulla, as he sat down in the chair the other woman had vacated moments ago. Acaadi leaned against the wall and folded his arms over his chest, his tail occasionally lashing from behind him in a sharp motion.

Ulla pulled out another chair and perched on its edge.

“I didn’t do it!” she blurted. “I liked him, I really did!”

“Ah, well, that’s good to know,” Daegen said with a lazy smile. “Why would you assume we think you ‘did’ _it_?”

“I-“ Ulla hesitated. She had started fidgeting with her left sleeve, rubbing the crimson fabric between her fingers. “He’s dead and you’re here? Why else would you want to talk to me?”

“You said that you liked him,” Acaadi pointed out. “That implies you knew him better than just a customer.”

Ulla fidgeted again, before answering. “He was a customer, but he was a pretty good one. He didn’t expect me to talk too much—I mostly just needed to listen and nod.”

“Ah, how helpful of our friend, then,” Daegen said. “And what did he tell you when he was last here?”

“Nothing special.” The woman shrugged. “He mentioned that the Stallion invited him here, because he was short on money until the next race. It happened often enough with him—he didn’t really pay much attention to how much he was spending. He’d mention people being angry with him about it—how he’d borrow money and borrow money, and sometimes he’d forget to return it.” She paused. “Not out of greed—it just didn’t matter all that much to him.”

“How nice for him,” Daegen said dryly. He could imagine how annoying that had to be to people who didn’t have that luxury. Although, the question was if Ark could have been borrowing money from them, rather than people like the Stallion. Which would come with its own share of problems, come to think of it. Regardless, it was the kind of information that could lead them somewhere.

“Was he nervous? Worried?” Acaadi asked. Clearly, they would not escape asking questions from the Manual of Investigating.

“No,” Ulla replied, frowning. “He was like usual.”

“And I suppose he also didn’t mention any recent fallings out, or anyone threatening him?” Daegen asked. After all, he could also contribute to making sure that all the proper questions have been asked, even if he didn’t expect any helpful answers. “That’d be probably too much to ask.”

Ulla shakes her head. “No, nothing of that sort. He was looking forward to his next race.”

Which was hardly surprising, given Ark’s apparent financial situation.

“And did he mention anyone he’s indebted to? Or from whom he borrows money regularly?” Daegen pressed.

“Well, there’s his manager, I think,” Ulla said. “But we weren’t that close—I don’t know that many of his friends. I know the ones that’d come to visit us here, but that’s it.”

“Then perhaps you could write down their names for us?” Acaadi asked, pushing a datapad towards her.

Ulla looked down at it. Daegen guessed she was wondering if she should bring up that this was supposed to be a discreet place, as if whatever embarrassment she would cause by revealing the names were equal to the fact that a man had been murdered.

“Quain Ark is dead, girl,” Daegen said. “One of those men that you’re thinking of sheltering may have killed him. Do you really think this is the right choice?”

She looked at him, her brown eyes wide, and then pulled the datapad towards her. Her fingers trembled slightly when she started typing.

  

* * *

 

 

Only one of Ark’s companions Ulla had mentioned was native to Shikaakwa, as it turned out. Fortunately, his home was easy enough to locate. He was, as was to be expected, a celebrity in his own right—mostly known for having rich parents and getting blackout drunk in public, from what Acaadi recalled.

His apartment was located in one of the fashionable and expensive districts. The building itself was new—a deceptively spindly construction of glass and metal that stood out between the older buildings. It was nice enough, Acaadi decided. Not as amazing as some other structures he’d seen but definitely not an eyesore.

The interior was mostly sleek and metallic with a spacious lift that brought them in front of the apartment door. After a moment, it opened, revealing a hallway that had been furnished in a rather haphazard way and a tired-looking man in uniform.

“Master Demos is resting,” he said sounding as tired as he looked.

“We don’t require him to do anything strenuous,” Daegen replied dryly. “He can answer our questions in bed. And I’m sure I can propose hangover cures that are more effective than whatever he is trying.”

Acaadi crossed his arms and moved beside Daegen, so that he could loom more effectively. Some people tended to be unreasonable about Rangers asking questions.

“If you believe he requires help with answering, it’s time to call now,” he said.

“Is he a suspect?” the man asked. He’d blanched slightly when Acaadi had moved—some people tended to forget how big togorians were. Or how strong, for that matter.

“Not yet,” Daegen replied with a lazy smile. “Do you have reasons to think he should be?”

The man shook his head mutely.

“Well, then—you can bring us to Demos,” Acaadi said with a grin. “Surely, he has nothing to fear from us.”

“And introduce yourself,” Daegen added. “I so hate resorting to calling people ‘hey, you’.”

The man sighed mournfully. He seemed to be already resigned to whatever terrible fate that might await him—Acaadi didn’t know if it’d be at their hands or at Demos’s, though if it was the latter, perhaps something could be done about it.

“Apologies,” the man said. “I am Heron. Please follow me.”

Ge then turned around and started walking at a stately pace towards the end of the hall. Both Daegen and Acaadi followed him, and entered a conspicuously clean day room. It was again furnished in a manner that Acaadi decided to label stylistic confusion. A sculpture of a twi’lek couple in the act of passion dominated the room. Someone had hung a bucket from one of the lekku. A simple white table stretched at the side, framed by black chairs with decoratively sculpted legs and backs. Posters of various actresses and actors hung on the walls, advertising a number of movies. Finally, the wall on Acaadi’s left was taken over by a large black wardrobe, its doors inlaid with glittering plastic of various colours that formed a zhurung frolicking through a fire.

Judging by Daegen's expression, the inlay was particularly offensive.

Meanwhile, Heron had opened another door and disappeared behind it. He had not closed the door, and his hushed voice could be heard, though not the words.

“Oh, let them in,” someone groaned and Heron re-emerged to wave them inside.

That room was dark, with light only enough to make out a large bed on which a humanoid figure was sprawled. The smell of half-digested alcohol was strong, making clear what their trouble was.

“What is that about?” the figure asked impatiently.

“Your friend, Quain Ark,” Daegen said. “We had a few questions.”

“I was drunk,” Demos answered firmly. “Or I was getting ready to get drunk.”

“We guessed that ourselves, but thank you for the confirmation,” Daegen said, as he sat down on Demos’s bed, clearly undaunted by the lack of invitation. “It warms my heart that you’re so willing to cooperate in your state.”

Demos seemed to be quite taken aback and spluttered for a moment, but it didn’t seem to be having any effect on Daegen, who waited until he'd stopped to add, “It seems you’re doing very poorly. How unfortunate.”

“Can’t you Force-magic my hangover away?” Demos asked, something like hope creeping into his voice.

“No,” Acaadi said curtly, only for Daegen to shake his head.

“Actually, in theory it should be possible,” he said. “We’d just need to speed up your metabolism for a while so you can get rid of the byproducts of the alcohol you’ve consumed. I can’t guarantee you’d sweat it all out, though, so perhaps you’d rather move to the bathroom?”

“I… I’ll take pain killers and drink more water, but um… thank you?” Demos said in the tone of a man dealing with a dangerous wild creature.

“Very well,” Daegen said. “So, about our questions—you knew Quain Ark, didn’t you?”

Demos pulled himself up into a sitting position and shrugged. Then, he put a hand to his head and groaned. “Heron, get me some painkillers.”

When the other man left, he turned back to Daegen and Acaadi. “Sort of. We met up at a few parties, and had fun later. We weren’t close, if that’s what you mean.”

“And did he ever borrow money from you?” Acaadi asked.

“He tried, but I don’t exactly pay my bills,” Demos snorted. “My parents take care of that—they have Oola as their heir and Deyna as the spare, so we have an understanding—I stay harmless, and they fund my entertainment.”

It was an interesting bit of honesty there—Acaadi could almost taste the bitterness that came from the young man as he spoke. Unsurprising, given his situation—although no less off-putting. Perhaps, it’d have been easier to empathize with his anger if he hadn’t chosen to simply drift along and live a meaningless life.

“I see you’re doing a terrific job of that,” Daegen said dryly. “Unfortunately, as much I’d love to hear all about your grievances towards your family, we’re here for a reason. Do you know of anyone from whom Ark could have borrowed money?”

“No idea whatsoever,” Demos replied and shook his head. A lekku slipped down his shoulder from around his neck and hung lifelessly on his chest, while he clutched his head. “Oww.”

In a coincidence that rarely happened, Heron reappeared then, carrying a tray with a glass of water and a tiny silver plate with one pill. Presumably, taking a pill from someone’s hand was uncouth and not done, even if one wasn’t even the spare.

Demos grabbed it without much regard for the setting, and then chugged the water down, spilling some over his chin and bed.

“I feel better already,” he said.

“Ah, the placebo effect,” Daegen commented, and Acaadi sensed that he was even more amused when Demos nodded again.

“So, now that you’re feeling stronger,” Daegen said and Acaadi thought he could hear a hint of amusement in his voice, “perhaps you could tell us what you thought of Ark?”

Demos shrugged. “Nice enough fellow. If he had money, he made sure to buy us rounds and sponsor other entertainment. Talked a bit too much about races, and how I live an easy life. He should have taken up the complaint with his parents for moving to the colonies, whoever they were.”

Acaadi stifled a sigh. So far, Demos was proving to have no useful information whatsoever. Still, they had more questions to ask, even if it was starting to look like a waste of time.

“He got involved with… now what was the name?” Demos said, as he scratched his chin. “I knew it, I’m sure. Not the usual sort. An heir.”


	3. Where Daegen’s Past Has to Face Daegen and Finds It Frustrating

While Demos had apparently not known all that much, he did manage to dredge up Ark’s last sexual partner and companion—Achaak of house Lok. Which meant heading in the direction of the Lok complex. It wasn’t far, so they decided to go on foot.

This being a rich quarter, the street was more of a broad alley, with trees and a hardy blueish green grass planted along the sidewalk.

“So, a relative?” Acaadi asked, amused.

“By adoption,” Daegen answered with a shrug. The story was a bit on the complicated side, but they had time before they got their next interviewee. “My mother was a ward of House Lok. Then, she met a Ranger and had me. And then waited a few years before figuring out that she actually did want him involved in raising me—don’t ask me why. I liked him almost from the start.”

Acaadi nodded. “You think anyone here remembers you?”

“I left when I was fairly young,” Daegen replied. True, he had been quite outstandingly intelligent even as a child, but he also had no contact with the House since his parents had moved to Tython with him. “And no one there has seen me since I was a child. I do hope I made an impression nonetheless.”

Acaadi snorted. “Careful. Childhood impressions tend to be more of the ‘rolled in something sticky while naked and then glued himself to his bed’ kind.”

Which Daegen didn’t recall ever doing. True, there had been a few… incidents when he’d been perhaps a bit too adventurous, like the whole debacle where he’d gone to explore the Chasm at twelve and had to be rescued, but surely that was nothing too unusual for an intelligent, curious and energetic boy.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the Lok complex—a cluster of buildings gathered around a central one and surrounded by a fence. It was slightly less green than Daegen had remembered—it seemed that someone had cut down the old larra trees. That didn’t surprise Daegen in the least, given that the obnoxious things tended to attract every single insect in the city when they were in bloom.

An elderly iktotchi woman with one broken-off horn came out to meet them. She was dressed in one of those warm layered Shikaakwan dresses that also tended to have a lot of cunningly hidden pockets. She frowned slightly when she looked at Daegen, as if she couldn’t quite place him.

“You’re the Rangers that want to talk with Achaak?” she asked.

“Yes,” Daegen said. “This is Acaadi. I’m Daegen Lok.”

The woman took a step back to take a better look at him and asked, “Daegen Lok? Is your mother’s name Asherat?”

“Yes,” Daegen said with a grin. “We lived here when I was a child.”

The woman gasped. “Daegen! Haven’t you grown? I remember you when you were a little boy—I thought you’d never stop asking questions. And now look at you—a Ranger! Do you remember me? I’m Sheeriss.”

The name clicked—she’d had both horns intact in his memories, but he remembered her babysitting him on a few occasions.

“You read me a biology textbook for bed time,” Daegen said grinning. Sheeriss spread her arms to embrace him, which Daegen gladly did.

“Come,” Sheeriss said, as she pulled away. “Achaak has probably walked a groove in the floor by now. Her Ladyship will still not be happy about Rangers coming to talk with zhim, but then your mother likely told you about how her Ladyship is.”

Daegen would have described it more as very tactfully alluding rather than outright telling. There was a certain art as to how his mother had carefully painted the picture with innocuous phrases like ‘may the Force bless her mind’.

“So, Achaak,” Daegen said instead. “I don’t remember zhim very well—I think I put zhim up to asking our teachers about something silly and fecal when zhe was little.”

“Oh that—it was about differences between how the shit of different species looks like,” Sheeriss replied. “Achaak likely remembers it too. You were a bit of a handful and zhe was younger and much shier than you.”

Which could mean anything from “total recluse” to “introverted but perfectly capable of interacting with others”, given that comparing anyone’s confidence with the ample amounts of it that Daegen deservedly had was like comparing a match to a star. Perhaps it had been meant as some sort of a warning, though in that case it had been unnecessary. Daegen was well aware people found him difficult often—he also found it quite amusing most of the time.

“So, how is your mother?” Sheeriss asked, as they walked through a long hallway.

Daegen shrugged. “Buried in literary analysis—I’m told she resurfaces occasionally for food and other necessities.”

“So no one had the opportunity to tell your friend about your childhood?” Sheeriss asked with a grin. “What a pity. We don’t have much time, but I can fix that.”

“We've just met,” Acaadi answered, sounding amused.

“Then I'd best warn you now,” Sheeriss laughed. “Unless something really changed, then Daegen is probably still too curious for his own good. We had to send a rescue party into the sewers for him, because he wanted to find out to find out what lived there.”

Daegen sighed. “There was nothing.”

While he was aware that he should be glad about it, something about his youthful disappointment about the fact stuck with him more than anything about the event.

Sheeriss shook her head in exasperation. 

 

* * *

 

 

Achaak lived in a part of the Lok complex that seemed to be almost abandoned; Acaadi, Daegen and Sheeriss were the only people there. No one else passed them as they headed down the needlessly long hallway toward Achaak's apartment. It was all immaculately clean, with foreboding paintings and holobusts of devaronian men and women glaring from the sides. Well, three or so looked foreboding, while the rest appeared constipated. Sheeriss knocked on the door a few times, before it finally opened to reveal a devaronian with dark red skin and filed-down horns. Zhe was wearing a layered purple robe that accentuated zher athletic build and golden earrings with little amethysts glinting at the edges.

“What is it?” Achaak asked in an annoyed voice.

“This is Daegen Lok—you might remember him,” Sheeriss said with a warm smile.

Achaak looked in the direction she was pointing, and then up so that zhe could look better at Daegen. After a moment, zher expression turned into a frown. “I do. My brother kept calling me all sorts of stupid nicknames related to poop because of him.” Zhe glared at Daegen a while longer, and then sighed. “But you did get him to stop.”

“Your brother never had much of an imagination,” Daegen shrugged. “Unless that changed with age?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Achaak said coldly. Daegen found it puzzling for a moment, until he realized that this was an attempt to put him in his place. Unfortunately for Achaak, Daegen’s place was nowhere where zhe seemed to think it was.

“Well, I suppose you’re right,” he replied lightly. “I don’t see a reason to bother with insignificant details like that, anyway, given that I’m here on business. Ranger business, to be precise.”

“You’re a Ranger now,” Achaak said dryly. “How nice for you. I’m sure you must enjoy lording over others.”

“I’m sure as a scion of a noble family, you must feel threatened by how skilled I am at lording over others,” Daegen replied, “but please, do contain yourself. Let us deal with the business first, and then we can arrange a meeting where you can vent any frustration you might feel towards me.”

Achaak sighed. “Right, fine—what is that business? I’ve been good for the last few months.”

“I’m Acaadi, and I’m a Ranger too,” Acaadi said, apparently deciding that it was best that he took over. Perhaps it was—Achaak seemed to be needlessly hostile towards Daegen.“We’re here in connection to Quain Ark’s recent death.”

Achaak paled and gripped the frame of the door tighter, and it was then when the pieces of the puzzle fell into place for Daegen—it seemed they were dealing with one half of a star-crossed duo. If Ark had known he was starring in a romantic tragedy was another question.

“May we come in?” Acaadi asked, as he took a step forward. Achaak took a step backwards, before moving to the side and letting them in.

“I hadn't seen him for more than a month,” Achaak said, once they’d entered the sitting room. It was pretty large and comfortably furnished in a surprisingly restrained style. Pale wood and pastel blue fabric dominated the space with one decisive splash of color in the form of a painting of a pink twi’lek woman smiling serenely at the people entering. “My mother… convinced me that leaving him would be in my best interest.”

“Really now?” Acaadi asked. “And you did just that? We’re supposed to believe you still listen to your mommy like a little child?”

“That’s exactly what you’re supposed to believe,” Achaak answered haughtily. “Perhaps on Tython you do not value your family, but here on Shikaakwa-“

“That would have sounded a lot more believable if you weren’t so ready to fight _us_ ,” Daegen said, as he sat down on the sofa. “Or if you weren’t hiding fear under all that bravado just now. Really, lying to two Force sensitives? I expected better from you.”

Achaak looked at Daegen, zher expression changing from anger to disbelief, and finally dismay. “Look, I can’t just-“ Zhe hesitated. “Fine, she said she’d get rid of him if I didn’t dump him. But-“

“No, no, don’t try playing that card,” Acaadi interjected. “You believed she was serious enough to listen, didn’t you?”

“No,” Achaak said, wringing zher hands. “I thought that she was just talking. That eventually she’d see that I wasn’t going to back down on that and accept that I loved Ark and wanted to be with him. Besides, she’s my mother—she wouldn’t have hurt me like that, would she?”

“And now you’re here, unsure if your mother had your lover killed or not,” Daegen said, shaking his head. “So afraid that it may be true, you’d rather never find out.”

“And you’re all too happy to feel smug about it, aren’t you?” Achaak snarled. It was actually not a bad snarl, coupled with zher sharp teeth, but Daegen had seen better. Who’d have expected that Master Quan-Jang’s test subjects would prove to be helpful from far off while he worked as a Ranger?

“You seem to be convinced I’m somehow jealous of you,” Daegen said. “I hate to disappoint you, but until today, I didn’t even remember you. Now, perhaps I could remind you that a man has been murdered—someone about whom you supposedly cared. Can you put aside whatever silly grudge you’ve been holding against me and answer our questions?”

“I told you what I know,” Achaak snapped. “Look, fine, he had debts. But he paid them back, so that’s not it. It could have been a rival—they tended to threaten each other on occasions. I thought it was just bravado, but maybe one of them was serious.”

“And there was your mother,” Acaadi said.

“Yes, there was my mother,” Achaak replied. “I don’t know if she hired anyone, okay? I don’t know! Now get out! I’ve told you everything.”

  

* * *

 

 

The problem with Achaak’s confession was that it had given them absolutely no evidence. Oh, it was all very plausible, but then accusing anyone only based on probability ended in bungled cases. Having a motive and having an opportunity didn’t automatically make one a criminal.

Which was why Daegen and Acaadi had found themselves in a small corner café several streets away from the Lok complex—the owner of the café was also a go-between for people who could make problems disappear and those who had a problem in needed of being disappeared. It was something of an open secret among Rangers—and while they could have arrested him, places like this tended to spring into existence as long as the need for this type of service existed. As distasteful as it was, it was simply more pragmatic to let the man operate in peace, until someone needed information. For now, it had not happened often enough for the contact to have become useless.

The place itself seemed rather innocuous—small and neatly furnished, it seemed more like a place where old people would meet up to gossip. Framed news clippings describing various bits of the café’s history had been hung on the striped green-and-white wall. A large monster of a java-maker stood behind the counter, and there was display with various local deserts. In other words, pure innocence beyond suspicion. Then again, it was probably the kind of appearance a place like this would have wanted. On the other hand, given that Acaadi had known about its reputation, it seemed like a useless pretense.

“Tea, please,” Daegen said, as he sat down comfortably at one of the tables. Acaadi had curled up gracefully opposite him, and yet, he was still taking up a significant amount of space. Really, the owner of this place should have started thinking about getting more space long ago.

“Anything else?” the waitress asked—a petite red twi’lek, her lekku decorated with yellow ribbons. She had been looking at Daegen in a way that reminded him of a tooka in front of a saucer with cream. He supposed it was not every day that she got to see someone as good looking as he was—and there was no harm in watching.

He smiled at her, “We’d like to talk with the owner.”

The waitress hurried away then, radiating unease in the Force. They’d both hidden their Ranger insignia for this visit, but Daegen supposed that the woman could have other reasons to be uneasy. Perhaps she thought they wanted to complain, as unlikely as it was. Or maybe she thought they were going to get them in trouble.

A moment passed, and another being emerged from the staff-only door. A short, tawny cathar man with a braided brown mane hurried towards them. The waitress followed behind him, but turned towards the counter where she set about preparing the tea.

“How may I help you?” the man asked, as he stopped in front of Daegen’s and Acaadi’s table.

Acaadi slid his hand into his pocket, and pulled out the Ranger’s star from it, then put it on the table. It glittered gently there, golden against the stark white of the table. The man swallowed visibly.

“We’d like to talk,” Acaadi said, “about House Lok.”

The man looked at them for a while, as if staring at them would make them disappear, or morph them into a friendly pile of money or whatever else might have been going on in the head of someone who arranged hits when faced with two inquisitive Rangers.

“Let’s skip the part where you pretend you don’t know what we’re talking about, and the one where you pretend you're discreet,” Daegen added, deciding to pre-empt things. Both would be tedious to deal with. “We won’t go away—the only way you can get rid of us is by killing us, and we all know that’d be far too much trouble for you.”

“I may remember a… deal,” the man eventually said. “The Head of House Lok found a certain racer inconvenient. I introduced her to a person who deals with such inconveniences—but they never collected their money.”

“Curious,” Daegen said. “And who is this helpful person?”

The man hesitated again, then said, “I’m going to reach into my pocket and pull out something to write, okay?”

Slowly, carefully, he did just that and pulled a scrap of flimsi and a pen. He scribbled something, then pushed the scrap towards Daegen and Acaadi. His writing was hasty, but legible nonetheless, and the name he’d written down on it explained the secrecy.

Jaris Kan had been a Ranger once—one who had supposedly died in the line of duty several years ago.


	4. Where the Next Victim's Identity Is Quite Inconvenient

Finding Jaris Kan would not be easy—he had managed to stay out of sight for several years now, successfully maintaining the illusion of being dead to other Rangers. It was also of supreme importance that Acaadi and Daegen found him before anyone else did—the fact that a Ranger had killed someone prominent would be bad enough for the current political situation. They didn’t need the additional complication of looking like they might be letting the killer escape.

Still, they had limits, and it had gotten quite late by the time the left the café. Of course, they could have kept on looking for Kan, but that sounded like the kind of idea that led to mistakes of the getting stabbed in the face kind. Daegen was of the opinion that the Tythos system should not have to suffer the untimely loss of his good looks, and so, once they'd notified Teyne to check if they had anything about Jaris Kan, they holed up in Acaadi’s ship with containers of carry-out food that smelled strongly of spices. It didn’t taste bad either, though Daegen had tried better.

“That,” Acaadi said between bites, “was almost too easy.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Daegen replied, gesticulating with his plastic cutlery. “We’ve not found Kan yet. And we don’t know if he did it for sure. The mere fact that someone recommended him to Lady Lok doesn’t mean he’s guilty.” He shrugged. “It’s unlikely that it was someone else at this point, but let’s keep our minds open.”

“So, who else do you think it could be?” Acaadi asked leaning towards Daegen. He was looking at him with very gratifying interest.

 “Perhaps we’re focusing on the private angle too much; consider that Ark could have been killed by someone protecting their business, for example.” Daegen answered. “We still don’t know from whom he was borrowing money—it could have been some loanshark, and those generally don’t take to Ark’s attitude to money well. Or possibly, one of his sports rivals decided to permanently even out the field.”

“You don’t happen to be a fan of wind-racing?” Acaadi asked with a grimace. “Because if not—and Kan turns out to be somehow innocent, we will need to make a list of his rivals. And read up on them.”

“Sounds positively captivating,” Daegen drawled. “I don’t particularly care for them, no. Studying under Master Quan-Jang taught me enough about risk to know when it’s just stupid.”

“What kind of a person is he?” Acaadi asked, his ears perking up in a display of curiosity.

“Quite insufferable,” Daegen answered with a fond grin. “Probably at least a bit insane—the thing about him getting the furies drunk to study them is mostly true. Aside from the fact that they can’t get drunk, and he needed to find something that would put them in a state where they can be studied. Well, he’s also quite brilliant, of course.”

Acaadi stared at him with an expression of horror on his face. “Please tell me you’re joking,” he said, and when Daegen shook his head, he groaned. “You’re serious. That’s not just one of those silly stories about Temple Masters.”

“It’s absolutely true,” Daegen replied. He couldn’t help but feel proud of his Master. There was someone to look up to, even if not always to emulate.

“So, how do you live up to something like that?” Acaadi asked.

Daegen shrugged. “I don’t. I’m a neuroscientist. It’s a nice clean field, where the biggest risk you take is writing something stupid, and I’ve nothing to fear in that department.”

“So you pick people's brains apart?” Acaadi asked. He seemed to be quite curious, which really didn’t surprise Daegen. After all, he wasn’t just good-looking, he was also intelligent and very entertaining to listen to.

“You could say that,” Daegen replied. “It’s really fascinating—all that we are is the Force, electrical impulses and chemical substances. And yet, here we are, talking, thinking, feeling. Why wouldn’t anyone find this fascinating is beyond me.”

“You make it sound much more spiritual than I expected,” Acaadi answered.

“Don’t you get at least a little bit lyrical when thinking of existence?” Daegen asked. “Sense the world about you, and you see that we’re luminous beings, and how the Force binds it all together.”

Acaadi sighed. “I think we’ve gotten very off topic,” he said with more than a hint of regret. “We should finish discussing the case.”

Daegen decided to act then. Really, there was only so long he was willing to drag things out. He had made it clear that he was attracted, and so had Acaadi; there was no point in pretending it was not the case and being coy.

“We should,” he said, as he got up and put his hand on Acaadi’s shoulder, “but we can do it in the morning, when we’ve rested. Fresh minds and all that.”

Acaadi looked at him and laughed. “You make a compelling argument.” He leaned closer, so that their noses were almost touching. “And what should we do now?”

“I’m sure you can think of something,” Daegen replied, as he slid his hand lower.

“I recall a promise of private performance,” Acaadi purred.

“Oh, and you think you’ve earned it so quickly?” Daegen asked with a grin.

“Yes, I think I have,” Acaadi replied as he slid his arms around Daegen.

“How confident,” Daegen said. “You’re lucky I like confident.” 

 

* * *

 

There were a lot of things to be said about beds on a Ranger’s spaceship, and one of them was that they had not been made with a tall, well-built human and a togorian sleeping together in mind. There were other solutions, of course, and the easiest one was simply to move to separate beds for the night. Which probably was for the best, given that this was not the time for distractions in the morning, even if they’d be very pleasant ones.

There’d be time enough for that once they were done with Ark’s untimely death and whoever had the bright idea of murdering him. Which in all likelihood had been Jaris Kan, because some people not only enjoyed being frustrating, they had to top it by feigning their own deaths to turn to a life of assassination.

It was the sheer pointlessness that so annoyed Daegen. Quain Ark had been perhaps frustrating, and certainly not the type of person you’d want to trust to be financially responsible, but those were hardly reasons to kill him. Doubtlessly, the mild embarrassment of an undesirable son-in-law was not worth the trouble of actually paying for someone to get killed?

And yet, apparently, it was.

Daegen finished rebraiding his hair—he’d heard of people who slept with their hair unbound, but if he did that, he'd just end up having to cut it all off, it’d be so tangled—and decided it was time to eat something. He was being unconstructive.

Acaadi, it seemed, had the same idea, given that he was already making himself something to eat once Daegen joined him. Daegen started looking for something to make sandwiches from, while Acaadi read something on his datapad with a frown as he ate what appeared to be stew.

“They found a dead man in the sewers this morning,” Acaadi said, just as Daegen bit into his sandwich. “Apparently, in the time since you left Shikaakwa that dianoga moved in, since something seems to have taken several big bites out of him.”

“And why must you share this news with me while I’m eating?” Daegen asked.

“Because it’s Kan,” Acaadi said, shaking his head. “It seems that Lady Lok really didn’t want anyone finding out about Ark.”

“Given that it’s quite illegal, I’m not surprised,” Daegen said dryly. “Of course, this has a chance to become sort of murder dominos where she keeps hiring hitmen to take out the previous hitman.”

“I hope not,” Acaadi said, shaking his head. “That would have the potential to turn into the kind of mess that requires two Rangers to arrest the whole neighborhood.”

“Let us then hope that Lady Lok does have some functioning brain cells, then,” Daegen replied and shook his head. It was probably pointless to discuss her any further—they’d need evidence to arrest her, of course, but they could start looking for it once they had eaten. “Did you know Kan?”

“No,” Acaadi replied. “I only heard about how he died. And that they only managed to find his finger. Did you?”

“No,” Daegen answered. “Same as you. Do they know how long he’s been dead?” Daegen asked. “And what exactly is he missing?”

“No more than a week,” Acaadi answered with a frown. “The head is the biggest missing part.”

“Well, I suppose he won’t be needing it anymore,” Daegen said.

 

* * *

 

 

The clothes had been laid out separately, by the time Acaadi and Daegen arrived. They were nothing out of ordinary for a Ranger—a pair of durable dark grey trousers and a sturdy jacket of the same colour. Beneath, the dead man had worn a slightly paler shirt. A pair of worn black boots completed the picture—they were the only part of his clothing that had escaped damage from whatever it had been that decided a dead Ranger would make for a tasty snack.

What was left of the body was equally hard to recognize, although the autopsy had at least managed to establish the possible time of death, his identity, and the cause of death. The wound had by now been enlarged by enterprising creatures that fed on the dead, but it was mostly likely from a blaster shot to the back.

Kan had died quickly, without ever knowing who had killed him.

And it was there, in the starkly lit morgue, where the stench of rotting flesh mixed with the harsh smell of cleaning chemicals, that Daegen realized something.

“Why did he remove Ark’s brainstem?” he asked, staring at the prone bloated lump of flesh. “It makes no sense.”

Acaadi shrugged. “Misdirection?”

It was plausible, of course. Sow confusion, suggest a cult or an unstable mind where there is none. And yet…

“Can I see Ark’s body?” Daegen asked, turning to the coroner. The man nodded and lead him towards another slab, where the remains of the racer had been placed. Surrounded by the soft shimmer of the cooling field, the body was cast in blue.

Once turned over, the wound in the back of Ark’s head was gaping open. Now, that it had been cleaned, it seemed to be a surprisingly neat thing.

“Did you need to make the opening larger?” Daegen asked the coroner.

“No, it was already like this when we found him,” he replied. “I guess our killer had some experience in cutting bone.”

Daegen nodded slowly.

“We should find more out about Kan,” he said. “Unless you happen to know which Temple he trained at before he became a Ranger.”

“That shouldn’t take long,” Acaadi said. “You think he might not be the killer?”

Daegen shook his head. “No, that’s unlikely. But perhaps he had a partner who got greedy.”


	5. Where Our Heroes Investigate Interior Décor

The case was shaping up to be a frustrating one—not because it had been hard to find out the likeliest murderer, but rather because that had been the simplest part. They had the motive, they knew that Jaris Kan had been hired, and yet they had zero evidence that he had killed Quain Ark, or that Lady Lok had indeed been the one to hire him.

Daegen sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. They had been holed up on Acaadi’s ship for a while now, and Daegen was on his fifth mug of strong tea, when they finally received the data packet on Jaris Kan. “Stav Kesh,” he said—that had been Jaris’s temple of origin. He shouldn't have been frustrated, since it did mean his idea of a hypothetical partner in crime became likelier, and yet… “We’re going to be chasing yet another phantom now.”

“Phantom or not, we have to find them,” Acaadi answered. He’d been standing in front of the holo-display, his tail lashing to and fro, as he studied the spider-web of connections they had built up. “Let’s just hope it’s not another ex-Ranger.”

“How likely is that, exactly?” Daegen asked. “Killing others for money is hardly a glamorous career—presumably, most sane individuals once they decide to become Rangers either move on to their chosen career after their five years or stay Rangers until they retire.”

“Unlikely doesn’t mean impossible,” Acaadi answered leaning back in his chair. His back was starting to ache. “We should consider the possibility. Especially given that both victims were Force sensitive.”

That was something of an obvious observation, but relevant nonetheless. Still… “They were both shot from behind. They never saw what was coming—they had no chance to react.”

Acaadi nodded. “True, but sneaking up on a Force-sensitive is not exactly easy.”

“It’s not impossible either,” Daegen countered. “If you’re not aware you may be in danger, the warning can very well come too late, as paradoxical as it sounds.”

“That doesn’t mean we should dismiss the idea that this theoretical-“ Acaadi started to say.

“Hypothetical,” Daegen interrupted. “A theory is proven.”

“Hypothetical, then,” Acaadi replied. “In any case, we don’t know, and it’s possible that if Jaris Kan had a partner, they were also Force sensitive.”

Daegen wasn’t about to argue with that. It was possible. So many things were in fact possible that just listing them was not going to help them at all. They needed proof. They needed hard, tangible evidence.

He ran his hand over his face. Frustration wasn’t going to get him anywhere.

“Let’s find out if our helpful café-owner knows anything more,” he said after a moment. 

 

* * *

 

It was fortunate that Acaadi had not expected the café-owner to be excited about seeing them again, otherwise he’d been disappointed by the icy greeting. It certainly would not help the man’s business all that much if Rangers were seen visiting him too often. While Acaadi could not find it in himself to find it sad that someone who helped arrange murders would go out of business, he was prepared to admit that the inconvenience caused by it would be too significant to risk it.

Which all meant they had spent the next hour or so drinking tea, and waiting for the other customers to leave. He was not about to complain about that, though. Daegen was quite an entertaining companion, after all.

“I believe there has been some confusion here,” the owner said, having finally emerged from his office in the back. “I do not rent rooms, here.”

“You don’t? Such a wasted business opportunity,” Daegen answered dryly.

“What do you want?” the owner asked, his lekku twisting impatiently around his neck.

“We have questions, what else?” Acaadi answered.

“And some more tea wouldn’t go amiss, either,” Daegen added, as leaned back in his chair more comfortably.

“Look, nothing's changed since you were last here,” the café owner answered. “What else do you think I can tell you?”

“Well, for one, if your friend was working alone,” Acaadi answered as he stretched. It was a calculated move, one to ensure the café owner didn’t forget how much bigger he was than him. “Or who might know this, if you don’t.”

The man frowned and shook his head. “He kept to himself,” he said. “It’s not outside the realm of possibility that he might have hired some additional help, but I’m not sure if anyone would be up to his standards.”

Which was singularly unhelpful, but then they didn’t even know for sure if Jaris Kan had worked with anyone. "Nevertheless, even if he hadn't, someone close to whatever standards one might hold a career killer to could be also Kan’s possible killer.

“And if you broaden this to people he might consider passable?” Acaadi asked.

The café owner pinched the bridge of his nose and didn’t look up for quite a while—his posture all but screaming put-upon patience.

“We know,” Daegen said with exasperated patience. “You can’t tell us everything, you have a reputation to maintain. And we all know that you will tell us anyway, because if you don’t then you’re of no use to us, and if you’re of no use…”

“Yes, yes,” the café owner said. “I’ll give you a list in a moment. But do me a favour and don’t come back.”

“We certainly hope we won’t have to,” Daegen answered with a crooked grin. “While your teas were quite pleasant, I can’t say I care much for the service you’re offering.”

  

* * *

 

They couldn’t approach the next part of their investigation lightly—dealing with someone like the café owner or generally law-abiding people was one thing. Contract killers were a different matter altogether.

Acaadi and Daegen had holed up on Acaadi’s ship to discuss the matter—or specifically in his bedroom. It was quite a pleasant place, if cramped. Like most Rangers’ ships it had an inbuilt bed and wardrobe. Acaadi had decided to paint it in greys and blues, creating a gradient effect with the ceiling being black and the floor navy blue.

Daegen had found a reasonably comfortable spot on Acaadi’s bed with the togorian curled up with his head on his lap.

“We could simply imply we’re onto Kan,” Daegen said as he ran his hand through Acaadi’s mane. “Let them assume we’re looking for him, because we know he’s an ex-Ranger who feigned his death, not that we’re looking for his killer.”

“That, my very smart friend, comes with one tiny problem,” Acaadi answered. “The killer knows they’ve killed him. They will realize we’re there because Kan is dead, regardless. We don’t need the pretense.”

“So what do you propose we do?” Daegen asked.

Acaadi sat up, making the bed creak. “We should check what information we have on Kan. Who his associates were when he was a Ranger…”

Daegen nodded slowly. “He had to have had help with feigning his own death, and then later, at least initially, someone would have to have vouched for him that he’s not doing undercover work.”

Acaadi leaned over his lap to his nightstand and pulled his datapad to him with the Force. It rose with a slight wobble and then glided gently onto his waiting palm.

“Let’s see what files we have about him,” he said, as unlocked it. For a moment, he kept browsing through directories, until he found what he was looking for. Then, he hummed to himself, as he scanned the file. “Well, he left a pregnant girlfriend behind. According to her, they’d agreed to co-parent.”

“Charming of him,” Daegen said dryly. “But not much help for us.”

Acaadi nodded. “And here we have it,” he said. “A list of known associates—let’s cross-check with the other list.”

Daegen pulled out the scrap of flimsi the café owner had given them, and handed it to Acaadi. For yet another moment, they sat in silence, Acaadi’s focus fully on the files he was comparing. His expression and Force presence spoke of intense focus—he was almost completely motionless except for the tip of his tail, which kept flicking left and right.

Finally, he looked up. “Two names match,” he said. “I guess we know who we’re visiting next.”

 

* * *

 

Despite everything, Acaadi couldn’t help but to find the little house that the first person from their list lived in uncanny. It was such a cliché of domestic peace—small and painted in cheerful colours, it even had a tiny herb garden. It wasn’t that he’d expected a damp hovel or some sort of dark, dank dungeon, but there was just such a contrast between the peaceful surroundings and the fact that the owner killed people for a living.

The feeling only grew stronger, when the door opened and a wiry, scarred mirialan man emerged. One large hand curled around the doorframe, as he leaned against it, while the other rested against his side. His starkly blue eyes narrowed as he looked at Daegen and Acaadi, undoubtedly wondering who they were.

He was in luck, since they were not planning on keeping him in suspense.

“Palin Yue?” Acaadi asked. “We’re Rangers—and we need to ask you about Jaris Kan.”

To Yue’s credit, he didn’t even so much as flinch. Unfortunately for him, that was the only credit Acaadi was going to give him—he really should have thought to look a bit more confused, if he wanted to be credible.

“Isn’t he dead?” Yue asked he reached out to scratch his head. Some of his black hair remained standing up when he let his hand fall.

“Oh, he’s quite dead,” Daegen replied with a shrug. “But he died much more recently than we’ve been lead to believe.”

That did coax a reaction out of Yue—he gasped, and his shock was nearly palpable in the Force. It seemed like he genuinely hadn’t known.

“What do you mean much more recently?” he asked.

“He died this week, as far as we can tell,” Acaadi replied.

“He- how?” Yue looked between the two of them, as if hoping for the answer to somehow appear on one of them.

“That is what we are trying to find out,” Daegen replied. “Now, will you let us in, or does my friend need to pick you up and carry you inside? He could do it—we don’t know how much you value your dignity, so all you need to do is say something.”

Yue stepped aside mutely.

“That will also work,” Acaadi conceded, as he followed the man inside, Daegen just behind him.

 

* * *

 

The inside of Yue’s house was exactly what Daegen had expected, when he saw it from the inside—so cozy he was starting to think he was being strangled by a fluffy white blanket. He couldn't tell if it was genuinely the man's taste, or if it was just really good camouflage.

Still, the man was being surprisingly helpful. Unfortunately, his helpfulness was not very useful, as he apparently had had no clue that Jaris Kan was dead until they’d told him so. It seemed that in the absence of information he could provide, he decideded that providing them with sustenance might be an acceptable counter offer, given that he lead them to his kitchen.

It was something of a monstrosity, with carved wooden furniture, a lacy white tablecloth and flower cozies on everything that could imaginably be placed under one. A calendar with a fluffy tooka surrounded by flowers stared at them from the wall.

“We weren’t all that close,” he said with a shrug. “Tea? Java?”

“Tea, no poison,” Daegen replied dryly.

Yue gave him a surprised look, then smiled hesitantly. “I’m not an idiot—I wouldn’t try to poison two Rangers. ‘sides, I don’t have anything like that. My kid’s six—gets into everything, even if it’s child-proof.”

“That’s quite reassuring,” Daegen said. He did notice some toys scattered here and there, and small finger prints in a few places on the wall. And he had sensed no dishonesty from Yue so far, either. “So, about Jaris Kan—you said you weren’t all that close. So how well did you know him?”

Yue shook his head. “We associated back in his Ranger days, but that never went beyond professional. If you want someone who was tighter with him, you should try Rea Sheyr. She was always his primary source of information, and there had been rumours there was more between them.”

Which didn’t have to mean there actually was any romance involved. Most species tended to ascribe far too much importance to sex—and he was saying that as someone who had been flirting with his partner whenever he got a chance.

“And you stopped associating with him once he feigned his death?” Acaadi asked.

Yue shrugged. “I only found out after he stole a job from me. After that, I wasn’t too keen on rekindling any sort of cooperation with him.”


	6. Where Our Heroes Visit a Seedy Bar of Crime

Rea Sheyr had been a lot harder to find than Yue. Annoying as it was, they did finally locate her—apparently, it was watering time, as she was sitting in a bar that could have very well been named Seedy Bar of Crime, as far as Daegen was concerned. In fact, it’d be an improvement over its actual name: The Den.

The inside was exactly what they could have expected: the air was full of smoke and stank of beer, the customers were clustered around scarred tables, talking in hushed tones, and the person behind the bar was missing an ear.

Still, there was no accounting for taste (or the utter lack thereof), and they were here on business.

Out of the corner of his eye, Daegen spotted a togruta rising from her chair. He turned around to see better—tall, with  montrals curving backwards and the facial markings that matched what they knew of Sheyr, she made her way towards the door unhurriedly. It was quite a good show—though Daegen was going to detract points for not exclaiming something about leaving the stove on or some other cliché.

He and Acaadi followed the woman—Daegen considered simply grabbing her with the Force, but that would probably upset the other residents, and they looked like the sort of crowd to express their displeasure with blasters and fists. Which given their number would be a serious inconvenience.

Outside the door the situation would change, but not necessarily to favour them all that much more. Even if she couldn’t use the Force to boost the strength of her muscles, Sheyr would be more nimble and faster than Daegen or Acaadi—and since neither of them was exactly small, they’d also have to be more careful about navigating the crowded street. Fortunately, that was not the only advantage they had.

Daegen reached out to the mind of the woman—he sensed the anxiety, the urgency that made her leave, anger directed at him and Acaadi and fear. It was at the edges, feeding the other emotions—for now. As long as they kept reasonably close, they wouldn’t lose her.

The street was still quite busy when they left—just a few steps away from Sheyr. Daegen had almost been able to grab the headtail at the back of her head. But as soon as she was out, she dove into the crowd, heedless of various outraged cries.

Acaadi flipped over Daegen and landed before her, cutting one way of escape of. Sheyr turned to the right with blinding speed and dashed into some alley. Daegen and Acaadi both burst into a run, following her into the narrow dark street.

It smelled of urine—clearly, whatever toilets had been available to the guests of the The Den they were either not up to their standards, close enough or spacious enough. It also appeared that Sheyr had not just planned to run. As soon as she was out of view of the crowd, she turned around, blaster drawn.

_Double vision: shot to his head, penetrating the cranium and making a mess out of his brain-_

Daegen dove to the side, the shot missing his head by millimeters. He stretched his hand out and pulled, tearing the blaster out of her grip. Sheyr looked at her now empty hand with a puzzled expression and then turned to run again. Without other people to stop her, she was almost close to the blinding speed that Daegen had seen Force sensitive togruta reach.

Acaadi jumped again, intent on cutting her off.

Daegen had a different plan. He reached out with the Force again and pulled. Not as strong as to stop her and possibly snap her neck, but just enough to slow her. He felt her strain against his grip and only then pulled her back.

She tumbled to the ground and rolled before jumping to her feet. Mud and quite likely metabolic waste dripped off her, as she looked around wildly for an escape.

Acaadi landed behind her, a looming shadow. His clawed hands closed around her shoulders—more of a warning for now than an actual threat.

“Boo,” he said.

Sheyr looked at Acaadi and then at Daegen with a disgusted expression. 

 

* * *

 

 

The two were not the first Rangers Rea had met during her career—and even though neither of them had shown their badge, she was quite certain what they were. For one, neither bothered pretending not to speak with a recognizable Tythonian accent.

The human was looking at her with a sardonic smile—he seemed quite cocky to her, his stance confident and his movements almost too lazy. In other circumstances, she wouldn’t have minded watching him and maybe doing more than watching—he was easy on the eyes with the curly black hair framing golden skin, a mustache trimmed just right to frame his lips and amber eyes. As it was, she was only found his good looks galling.

Of the togorian she didn’t get much—she could see grey fur on his hands, when she looked at her shoulders, and she knew he was huge, towering over her as if she were a mere adolescent. She knew better than to fight him—several years ago, she’d seen a togorian woman casually pick up two large men by the scruffs of their necks and knock them out as easily as one might break an egg.

“I know my rights,” she growled. “And I’m not telling you anything—you’ve no proof.”

“And here we only wanted to talk,” the human said the infuriating smirk never leaving his lips. “But if you insist on admitting your guilt, we can hardly stop you. Please, do incriminate yourself some more, so we can all be somewhere less… fragrant.”

“Let me go,” she hissed. “I don’t know what you think I did, but you can’t prove it was me.”

“Was that a challenge?” the togorian purred. Her montrals picked up the vibration of his chest. “Because it sounded like a challenge to me. And you?”

“Definitely,” the human answered. “That or our new friend doesn’t believe in us. Which would be a tremendous pity—such harsh judgement on our first meeting?”

“Isn’t one of you supposed to pretend to be my friend?” Rea asked through gritted teeth.

“Why?” the togorian asked. “You’re the one who should be convincing us that you’re an upstanding citizen, and yet here you are doing exactly the opposite. You can’t expect us to play by the rules, if you aren’t.”

Rea resisted the urge to kick out. She knew that her chances of fighting her way out were slim.

“What do you want?” she asked grudgingly.

“Nothing much—just ask you about your good friend Jaris Kan,” the human said.

“He’s been dead for years,” she said without so much as blinking. Jaris would want to know that people were on his track. He’d pay decent money for any information about it. And about who blabbed. “Someone’s been seeing ghosts?”

“I wouldn’t say that it was a ghost that we’ve seen today,” the togorian replied.

“No, it definitely wasn’t a ghost,” the human added.

Rea looked at him with a frown. They couldn’t be thinking that she’d believe such an outrageous lie. She’d have to be an idiot. Which meant… which likely meant that it was true, and they had seen Jaris. But why were they asking about him if that was the case?

“OK, fine,” she said slowly. “He’s alive. I can tell you where he lives.”

“And when you last saw him,” the togorian added. There was something about the tone of his voice which put her on edge.

“Two weeks ago,” she said and shrugged. “He wanted to know, if I knew anyone who could spy on some kid on Tython. I didn’t.”

“And have you ever done a job with him?” the human asked. He was still smirking, but he was also watching her like a some sort of snake might watch something small and furry.

“No,” she replied with another shrug. “He thought himself too good for that.”

It wasn’t exactly true, but she saw no reason to explain that they had agreed seeing them together could draw too much attention to Jaris. Not that it had helped him in the end, as it seemed the two Rangers had seen him and knew it was him.

“What’s with the questioning?” she asked. “You said you’ve seen him. Why aren’t you bugging him?”

“We’d love to,” the human said. “But unfortunately, he recently came down with a terminal case of death.”

Rea stared. For a moment, she had trouble comprehending what he had said at all, until finally it became clear. She felt dread seep into her bones and stomach—who could have killed Jaris? And why?

“What happened?” she asked, before she could think better of it.

“That’s what we’d like to find out,” the togorian said.

Finally, Rea couldn’t contain her frustration, and lashed out with her foot. It connected with the togorian’s shin, making him stumble slightly. His grip on her shoulders tightened reflexively and she felt claws bite into her skin.

“Let’s not do anything rash,” the human said, as she tried to pull away. “I’m quite sure you have enough regrets without adding making an idiot out of yourself by fighting us.”

She would have punched him there and then, had the togorian not been holding her back. Instead, she could only scream obscenities at the man.

“Such vocabulary,” he only said, once she paused for breath. “I don’t think I’ve been called so many different things in one go. And you only got the one about my parents not being married right. Such a shame.”

“I think she has a point about your personality too,” the togorian said dryly.

The human gave him a wounded look. “I thought you liked me.”

“I do,” the togorian replied with a chuckle. “But I’ve been told I’ve strange tastes.”

It was then that Rea regretted losing her blaster, because blowing her brains out was starting to sound enticing. It wasn't just that she'd gotten caught—she'd gotten caught by a damned comedy act.   

 

* * *

 

 

“Something is not right,” Daegen said, once they had left Rea Sheyr in the tender care of the House Ryo guard. They’d returned to Acaadi’s ship and had yet again found themselves in front of the hologram displaying their progress on the current case.

There was more questions than answers so far.

“Aside from the fact that we have no tangible evidence or eyewitnesses?” Acaadi asked. It could have sounded sarcastic, but it didn’t—after all, every Force sensitive learned to rely on their intuition and that of their peers.

“Aside from that, yes,” Daegen replied. He shook his head irritably. “But I can’t tell what—it’s just a feeling.”

It was quite frustrating when it happened—knowing that there was _something_ just out of reach that he had missed or that would go wrong in a moment, but not knowing what it was. How was he supposed to avoid it or correct what he was doing, or find the missing piece of a puzzle, if all he had to go on was a vague feeling of wrongness?

“Hm.” Acaadi’s tail flicked rapidly, as he seemed to be thinking about the answer. “What could we be missing?”

“There is still the financial angle,” Daegen said with a frown. “And the rivalry angle. For all we know, there was another hit on him, and the second hitman killed Kan too.”

And yet, none of the ideas made the sense of unease lift. Which was singularly unhelpful, because he had no others. The wounds left on Ark spoke quite clearly that it was not a random act. So what was it that he was missing?

“That would explain the lack of physical evidence,” Acaadi said. “Perhaps we should look closer into those.”

“I don’t know,” Daegen said, feeling even more frustrated. “None of them feel like the right direction.”

Acaadi put a hand on his shoulder and started kneading it gently. “Then we can only do what we’ve been doing so far—eventually, whatever it is that the Force is trying to tell you will reveal itself.”

Which was all very sensible advice, the kind that Master Quan-Jang had imparted to Daegen on a number of occasions. He supposed that he’d even follow it in a moment. After all, being frustrated would achieve nothing of use.

He breathed out and nodded. “Let’s eat something. I may not be able to tell what the Force wants from me right now, but I can tell my body needs a meal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And for anyone curious, there's now a picture of Acaadi done by Spaclingart: http://spacelingart.com/post/182696307380/patreon-reward-sanaa-and-acaadi-januarys-reward


	7. Where Acaadi Is Declared Mission Leader by Royal Decree

When they arrived at the Despot’s palace on the next day, Teyne welcomed them with the news of another murder. She seemed to be quite outraged, as if it was some sort of a personal insult to her—perhaps it was, given that it was the third in a short time.

“It’s probably a gang war,” she said shaking her head, her arms crossed over her chest. “This idiot—I mean, the victim—was a foreman. He stayed behind after the rest of his crew left. They found him dead and mutilated the next day.”

They’d met up in the same conference room as on the first day and sat down around the table. Daegen supposed that at least the woman on the fresco was happy.

Daegen frowned as he listened. There was something that sounded wrong to him. “Mutilated? Was he a member of one of them that left for the other?”

Teyne shook her head. “ _That_ ’d have made sense, but no, he wasn’t. As far as we can tell he simply was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“It doesn’t achieve anything for either of the gangs,” Daegen pointed out.

“I know,” Teyne replied with a frustrated sigh. “Believe me, I know. I hope your case makes more sense.”

It would have been nice to say that it did, but unfortunately, morning brought no changes to the amount of unknowns they were facing. The case was starting to remind him of the unpleasant time when he’d first learned that not everything would come easily to him and that failure was a possibility. He hadn’t particularly liked the lesson, even if he now realized it was better that he learned it as a child, instead of entering adulthood without knowing how to pick himself up.

He still didn’t like failing, and he was definitely not planning on leaving their current case unsolved.

“Not much,” Daegen replied. “We have possibilities without hard evidence.”

Teyne patted his shoulder consolingly. “If you leave soon, His Highness-“

“Are those the Rangers?” a cultured baritone with a more than just a hint of superiority cut in.

When Daegen and Acaadi turned around, they found themselves face to face with a tall, solidly built, blue twi’lek in dashingly cut robes that almost hid the beginnings of a beer belly. His ornate cap almost hid a scar on his forehead, but the edge was peeking out—rumor had it, it was the result of a nasty fall the Stallion had taken when drunk. The Stallion himself maintained differently, but then he would. A pair of ornate earrings dangled at the sides of his face, clearly meant to emphasize the shape. He was still handsome enough, if one liked the type, but Daegen could clearly see that his lifestyle was starting to leave a mark on his face.

“Your Highness,” Teyne said bowing. “These are Rangers Daegen Lok and Acaadi.”

“The one and only heir to the throne,” the man said with what was likely intended to be a pleasant smile. It might have even passed for one, if Daegen hadn’t been able to sense the calculation behind it.

“To what do we owe the honour?” Daegen asked. He was quite proud of not letting even a trace of irony creep into his voice.

“I’m curious how the investigation into the death of my friend is going,” the Stallion said. If he got an opportunity, Daegen was going to mention that the nickname was getting misleading—then again, he had to admit that Hungover Pony just didn’t had the same ring.

“We are looking at all the possible leads,” Acaadi replied his hands folded in front of him on the table.

“I’m sure you are,” the Stallion answered, peering like one might at annoying neurons that keep misfiring when they shouldn’t. “I’ve heard that you’ve detained a suspect?”

“Merely a witness stupid enough to assault a Ranger,” Daegen answered. “We’re trying not to draw hasty conclusions.”

The Stallion nodded absent-mindedly. He waved his hand vaguely in their direction, as he said, “I expect results.”

There were limits to Daegen’s patience, and being treated like a scullery maid by someone who’d managed to rot away half their brain with alcohol and the other with drugs and only owed their station to their birth was one.

“We are not yours to command, Your Highness,” Daegen said icily. “With respect,” he continued, meaning exactly the opposite, “if you wish to make any requests, do so through the proper channels. I’m sure the Council would love to hear that you want them to pressure Rangers into arresting innocents.”

The Stallion bristled at that. Clearly, he had not expected that kind of reply—which spoke pretty poorly of whatever remained of his brain.

“Care to repeat that?” he asked. “Do you think I’m cowed by your magic?”

“No, Your Highness,” Daegen replied, once again proud to have managed to keep exasperation out of his voice. There was no point in causing a diplomatic incident, as satisfying as it would have been. “But I also do not think you’re willing to annoy your father over something as minor as a lowly Ranger, and the bastard child of a servant to boot, lacking in manners.”

It was sad how certain people were so very predictable, as the statement indeed placated the Stallion. He also turned to Acaadi, having obviously decided that Daegen was beneath his notice, which only spoke of a complete lack of taste.

“Do keep your… associate on a leash,” he said. “You don’t want him insulting his betters.”

“Thank you for the advice,” Acaadi replied. “I will take it under consideration.”

Daegen decided not to point out that the Stallion had never been his equal, much less his better, even before losing half his brain cells to alcohol poisoning. They wanted him to leave, after all.

 

* * *

 

 

They left soon after the encounter with the heir to the throne, or more precisely were rushed out by an exasperated Teyne. Acaadi had to admit that he could do with less insulting of royals on his mission, even if the royal in question was in need of reminding Rangers were not under his jurisdiction. It tended to be somewhat nerve-wracking.

Daegen seemed to be completely unruffled.

They were standing just outside the Ryo complex, on a promenade. A few guards were watching them from the main entrance, but did nothing else. A few meters away, people were milling around and going about their business. A few tourists would stop to admire the complex, or possibly to stare at it in mild horror.

“So, where too, o great leader?” Daegen asked with a grin.

“I’m glad you acknowledge my greater experience as a Ranger,” Acaadi said with more than a hint of suspicion, “but you’re not exactly the person I’d expect to listen to any leaders.”

“Well, aside from the fact that you’re my better by royal decree?” Daegen replied. “You seem to be less frustrated with the case than I am—you will be more rational, so you’re the leader until I feel less pressured by the Force.” After a moment, he added, “I listen to the Council.”

“I’m sure they’re very happy about it,” Acaadi replied as he tried to imagine Daegen listening to the Council with deference. It wasn’t working.

“Of course,” Daegen said with a shrug. “Who wouldn’t want me to acknowledge them as wise enough for me to listen to them?”

“I can’t think of a person who wouldn’t have that as their wildest dream,” Acaadi answered dryly.

“Well then, my question still stands—where to?” Daegen replied.

“I was thinking about Kan’s home,” Acaadi said.

“Then let’s get going.”

 

* * *

 

Jaris Kan had picked a fairly large hab-unit to live in. There were a number of small apartments inside, mostly populated by local students. It was certainly not where one would expect to find an ex-Ranger, which probably had been the point.

Kan’s apartment comprised of only one room with a kitchen area and a bathroom. It was also quite neat, with nary a sock on the floor. It seemed almost impolite to make a mess out of such a clean space—but then the owner was dead and beyond caring.

“Let’s get to work,” Acaadi said, as he put an encryption cylinder into Kan’s computer. While he might have been up-to-date on what Rangers could do to get data from a computer when he defected, it had been a few years since Kan had decided to play dead.

It took a moment for the program coded in the cylinder to do its work, but soon enough they had access to all of the files on the machine. Daegen left Acaadi to sort through them, as he set out to explore the content of the wardrobe and cupboards.

There wasn’t anything surprising in them on the first look: neatly folded clothes, mostly in dark grey, dark green-grey and dark brown-grey, all of which spoke of a pragmatic mind-set. Although Daegen had to wonder—clothes like that were good for blending in, but surely, there had been occasions when Kan would have not been working. Did he really wear only such drab things?

He pulled them out, one by one, and checked for hidden pockets, then made sure there was nothing hidden in them. So far, it seemed that Kan had taken to sewing emergency credits into his shirts. Daegen had to wonder if he unsewed them before washing them and sewed them back up, or simply bought new clothes whenever the old ones got too dirty. Neither sounded particularly smart, but who was he to lecture a dead man who had decided he preferred being a hitman over being a Ranger?

Finally, having reached no conclusions other than that Kan really didn’t have enough  underwear, he moved to examining the inside of the wardrobe itself and looked for hidden compartments. At first, he resorted of the usual method of knocking in hopes of hearing a hollow space, but after a moment, he tried to see if the Force wanted to tell him anything.

As helpful as ever, the Force told him that there was something wrong, but refused to provide him with any details.

With a sigh, Daegen resumed investigating the wardrobe, until finally something beeped at him. After a bit of examination, he figured out he was dealing with a hidden fingerprint reader. Which was rather unhelpful, since they had no fingers belonging to Kan. Which meant that they would have to deal with the thing the long and messy way.

Or they could hope Kan had not been paranoid enough to rig the thing to fry the content of the hidden compartment, which seemed like too much to hope for for Daegen. Carefully, he started disassembling the shelves, so that he had better access to the fingerprint reader.

  

* * *

 

 

It took them the better part of the day to thoroughly search through Kan’s apartment. The man must have been part rodent, the way he hid things in various hidden safes and such. Acaadi had to wonder how he got into some of the nooks and crannies—he had no hope of squeezing into them, and Daegen only barely made it. Then again, Daegen was not exactly small, so possibly they were more comfortable for someone closer to the average size for a human or a devaronian.

“Amazing,” Daegen snorted, as he dusted himself off. “The… idiot was actually planning on kidnapping his child—who never met him, by the way—and raising her. Because somehow a hitman for a parent is better than a translator.”

“It gets better,” Acaadi said shaking his head. “He was, I quote, _showing her what he could do_. Apparently, his ex was meant to eventually be somehow charmed by his criminal ways.”

Daegen looked around the room with a doubtful expression. “Yes, clearly, this is the life anyone would want. The bed with a broken-off leg convinced me.” Then, he turned to Acaadi. “So, did you find anything that would indicate he took the job on behalf of Lady Lok?”

“There’s this charming entry in what looks to be his budget about… pest extermination for House Lok,” Acaadi said while shaking his head in exasperation. “That’s the laziest way of hiding that kind of a job I’ve seen in a while.”

“He really doesn’t seem to have been working with anyone else though,” Daegen said. “So, we’re back where we started.”

“Not entirely,” Acaadi replied. “We can assume that Lady Lok hired someone to kill him now.”

Daegen nodded after a moment. “I suppose we can. Although… maybe not. Maybe it was someone who wanted him dead for unrelated reasons?”

Acaadi sighed. “It’s a possibility, true.” He ran his hands over his head. “But then either of our hitman friends would have mentioned that someone had it out for him, wouldn’t they?”

Daegen nodded again. “I think we can also now tell why he decided to become a hitman.” He indicated the hiding spot beneath the bed, where they’d found a not insignificant stash of illegal uppers.

“Do you think this is how he got killed?” Acaadi mused. “Even legal medicine can mess with your ability to sense things with the Force, if you dose it incorrectly, and I doubt those things were made with us in mind in the first place. Someone could have snuck up on him and he’d have noticed nothing.”

“It seems-“

It was then that Acaadi’s comm beeped, and a moment later they both heard Teyne asking them to report back to the palace quickly. There had been a new development.


	8. Where the Local Sect of Conspiracy Theorists Joins the Circle of Suspects

When they had arrived, Teyne was waiting for them in the same meeting room that they had used initially. Her lips were pursed in a tight line, and she was staring accusingly at a datapad, as if trying to set it on fire with her glare.

“What happened?” Acaadi asked, as he sat down opposite to her.

“Remember my case? The foreman?” Teyne asked, looking up from the datapad. She had already plugged it into a socket in the table, so now she could display information about the case on holo. “He was Force sensitive. And we have another case—very similar to yours and mine. Force sensitive fortune teller. No solid evidence, but plenty of possible culprits with motives.”

“What about the mutilation?” Daegen asked. “You’ve mentioned the foreman was somehow mutilated?”

“Missing arms,” Teyne replied. She clicked something on her datapad and two sets of data appeared: bodies, one missing arms dressed in overalls and another dressed in a fancy robe with eyes missing. Information such as name, age and occupation were displayed beside each picture. “And the fortune teller was missing her eyes. In both cases, like with Ark, they’ve been removed by someone with some idea of what they were doing.”

“Do you have any other evidence they we’re dealing with the same killer?” Acaadi asked.

“We found the same boot prints where the foreman and fortune teller were killed,” Teyne replied. “Also, there are traces of a specific kind of cologne where Ark was killed, and where the fortune teller had been. I’ll transfer the whole list to you—it’s all minor, but there’s enough overlap.”

As frustrating as starting over would be, Daegen felt relieved. The feeling of wrongness had finally lifted—they were on the right track now.

“I guess we can remove Lady Lok from the list of suspects then,” he said.

“And start over,” Acaadi added gloomily. “I don’t like this—one creepy murder with missing body parts is bad enough, but several?”

“It’s some cult, isn’t it?” Daegen asked, shaking his head.

“You mean the Stargazers?” Teyne asked. When both of them turned to look at her quizzically, she continued. “They’re a local sect. Not very big, mostly loopy malcontents looking for someone to blame for their misfortunes. They think the Force is puppeteering Force sensitives, or something like that.”

“I do not like the last part,” Daegen announced. “And they think that they’re freeing us by killing us?”

Teyne shrugged. “I don’t know that much about their dogma—although I believe they never did actually preach violence against Force sensitives.”

Which was a bit of a consolation, but still meant they’d be trying to get people who thought they were puppets to tell them which one of them was most likely a murderer. It sounded like the kind of fun that Daegen would gladly pass on.

  

* * *

 

 

Clearly, at least one Stargazer had money, given that the meeting-house Acaadi and Daegen were directed to turned out to be a spacious place with a large garden. It had been painted white with discreet grey geometric patterns adoring parts of the walls, likely to give off an impression of elegant respectability. After all, if you were a conspiracy theorist, the last thing you’d want would be people looking at you like you _actually_ were some sort of sad oddity.

The interior went for the same elegant dignity, but if anyone had asked Daegen, he’d have said it overshot and ended up boringly grey with splashes of dull beige. Well, except for the huge, extremely kitschy painting in the hallway that showed a spaceship descending on some planet in the light of a very rosy dawn.

By the time someone finally deigned to come to them, Daegen had been contemplating adding some flourishes to it. While he wouldn’t have been as crude as he’d been in his youth, he was quite certain that he could have come up with something that’d make the painting less saccharine.

“Welcome. I’m Hadad,” an elderly white twi’lek said, as he shuffled over to them. His long black and gold robe with a high collar didn’t make it easy for him, that much was clear. He was still quite good looking, despite his age. “What can I do for you, Rangers?”

“You can answer a few questions about your doctrine, to start with,” Acaadi said.

“I’m glad to share knowledge of our faith with anyone who cares to listen,” the man answered. “Please follow me.”

The office was getting a bit closer to being dignified while desperately trying to avoid replicating the interior of Akar Kesh. They probably would have succeeded better if they hadn’t used any beige at all, but Daegen wasn’t there to provide critique about interior design.

A teenage twi’lek girl with the same colouring as the old man, down to the red tiger stripes on her lekku, gave them a startled look from behind the book she was reading.

“Dearest, please go learn somewhere else,” Hadad said.

The girl seemed to want to protest, but eventually huffed under her breath and marched out, head held high and Hadad told them to sit down as he settled down in a chair behind a massive desk.

“What would you like to know about our doctrine?” he asked attempting what Daegen thought was meant to be a wise grandfather impression.

“You believe that the Force is malevolent, correct?” Daegen asked. “So what do you do about Force sensitives?”

“We do nothing,” Hadad replied with a gentle serene smile. “We merely advise them not to succumb to the temptation of using the Force, since it will strengthen its grip on them otherwise.”

Daegen was not feeling any more puppeteered or gripped than before, but he chose to challenge a different logical issue with that statement. “If we are being controlled, then it stands to reason, we cannot do anything to weaken this control.”

“That is an argument some here like to make, but I try to dissuade them,” Hadad replied. “After all, it’d mean that there is no hope for people like you.”

Wasn’t that interesting? “And your faithful eventually all agree with you?” Daegen asked.

Hadad paused, watching both of them for a moment. His lekku curled protectively around his neck, and he seemed to be unnerved.

“You’ve nothing to fear from us, if you tell us the truth,” Acaadi said, leaving the implications about lying to the priest’s imagination.

“Several young people have left our congregation over disagreements about faith,” Hadad eventually said. “I don’t believe they’re dangerous, merely young and enthusiastic. The worst they can do is hand you pamphlets about… ah… what was it? Amputating your Force locus.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Daegen asked. He wasn’t sure his emotions had caught up with his brain, because he wasn’t sure if he was just surprised or a bit terrified.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you knew,” Hadad replied in a kindly, condescending tone. “Every Force sensitive had a place where the Force enters their body. This is why you have different skills.”

“So… If someone with really good reflexes, like, say, a wind-racer, would have his in his brainstem?” Daegen asked. That seemed to fit quite well together, if one managed to ignore the fact that it was utter nonsense.

Hadad gave him a puzzled look. “Brainstem?”

“I’m going to simplify—it does vary a bit between species—but it’s the part of your brain that controls the flow of information between your brain and your body,” Daegen replied. He really disliked simplifying this much, but as regrettable as it was, this was not a time for a lecture on brainstems.

“I see,” Hadad replied. “That seems like a logical assumption to me. But tell me—you’re not just here to ask about our doctrine, are you?”

“We will need the names and addresses of the people who left your congregation,” Acaadi replied sternly—which in a togorian translated to rumbling like he was about to roar. It had quite the effect. “Four Force sensitive people have been murdered and mutilated post mortem.”

Hadad looked queasy at the news. “It wasn’t them,” he said after a moment with surprising vehemence. “It’s one of you people, trying to make us look bad. I won’t betray-“

“Please,” Daegen said, as he leaned towards the man. “Spare us the outrage and the accusations. No one, outside of your club for idiots too brainless to believe in the regular conspiracy theories, knows that you believe the nonsense about the Force sitting in one body part of a Force sensitive. We don’t have to make you look bad—you’re doing it all on your own without any help from us.

“Three of the people who died had caused no lasting harm to anyone,” Daegen continued. “They had people who loved them—just like you love your daughter.” He wasn’t completely sure, but the girl resembled him enough. Hadad flinched, confirming Daegen’s suspicions. “Will you really let that happen to more families, just because you don’t like the possibility that someone you knew is the murderer?”

Hadad sat in silence for a while. Then his shoulders slumped and he said, “I’ll give you the names. I don’t have their addresses anymore.”

  

* * *

 

 

It was not a long list that they were given—only four names. Maybe only one of them was the killer. Maybe it was all of them. Or maybe one of them had taught their ideas to someone who had taken them to a murderous conclusion. That remained to be determined.

“Do you think the killer will try to attack us if we approach them?” Daegen asked, as he sat down cross-legged on Acaadi’s bed.

Acaadi shrugged, as he curled up around Daegen, so he could look at the list over his head. “It’s hard to say. Most of their kills were done so that the victim couldn’t defend themselves. And there’s two of us, too, so they may not want to risk it.” Then after a moment of consideration, he added, “We shouldn’t take risks. They did kill people—we should come armed.”

“You need a weapon?” Daegen asked, giving him an amused look. “And here I thought being able to pick people up like unruly children is enough.”

“I’m not blaster-proof,” Acaadi pointed out as he curled some of Daegen’s hair around his finger. “But if you know anyone in Anil Kesh who could make me so, do tell.”

“If you want special armor, go to Vur Tepe,” Daegen replied shaking his head. “Unless you mean genetic experiments? In which case, you’d have to donate your DNA and then your theoretical children might be blaster-proof.”

Acaadi gave him an uncertain look then, given that Daegen had said all of this with a straight face. “You actually think it’s possible?”

“You’d want your skin to dissipate a certain type of energy—or your fur, actually,” Daegen replied. “It might be doable, but with gene modification that extensive, you wouldn’t know what else you’d be changing. You don’t want to end up with your skin turning to keratin skin tumors whenever you get a cut.”

“Do I want to ask you about _that_?” Acaadi asked.

“It’s one of the symptoms of a recessive skin disorder in humans and zabraks,” Daegen replied matter-of-factly. “They can also occur on their own in a number of species-“

“Right, furless species have strange skin problems that would be solved by fur,” Acaadi said decisively. “And we’re getting off topic. Blasters. We’re getting them.”

“Only blasters?” Daegen asked.

“Oh, right, you don’t have claws,” Acaadi conceded. “You should get a knife or something.”

Daegen refrained from pointing out that it was rather obvious he lacked any sort of big predatory features, being a human. Certain things seemed so natural for a given species that one hardly remembered that they weren’t universal. After all, humans had far better colour vision than togorians, and Daegen was quite certain he would forget about that at some point.

“I’ll get a blaster and a something,” he said. “Somethings can be useful.”

Acaadi grinned then. “I can’t argue with that, can I?”

“You could argue,” Daegen replied matching his grin. “In fact, please do argue. It’s very amusing.”

“Oh no, you’re too distracting when you’re amused,” Acaadi protested. “I’ll argue in the evening, when we have some free time.”

“So we’re calling this arguing now, are we?” Daegen laughed. “Very well then. I’ll be waiting impatiently for that.”

  

* * *

 

 

By the time evening came, Daegen had had quite enough of digging through Shikaakwan databases. The ex-Stargazers had been moving around a lot, though thankfully in the confines of the capital city and not outside of it. But it made finding their current addresses something of a chore.

How any governmental correspondence got anywhere on Shikaakwa in time was a question Daegen was not prepared to ask. It certainly would not be because of how their databases were organized.

Fortunately, he and Acaadi had found things they could do that were the opposite of boring, which meant that the evening was not wasted at all.

“You need a bigger bed here,” Daegen said. Not that he found Acaadi uncomfortable—he was large enough for Daegen to lie on him and strong enough to support his weight—but sleeping together was out of question.

“Are you planning on moving in?” Acaadi asked. “I don’t know how often we will have missions together—it might be easier if I just visit you and you get the bigger bed.”

“Ah, so you’d brave Anil Kesh to see me?” Daegen chuckled, as he reached out to stroke Acaadi’s throat.

“I couldn't possibly miss the opportunity to listen to all the jokes about the Chasm and the laser that you have boldly penetrating its depths,” Acaadi chuckled.

“Those get a tedious after a while,” Daegen said rolling his eyes. “There’s so many things you can come up with that before you start repeating yourself. I think someone even published a book on the construction of a Chasm and laser joke.”

“With that kind of approach, it’s no wonder you no longer enjoy them,” Acaadi replied, sounding rather amused.

“I’m pretty sure it’s the over-saturation, not analysis that killed them,” Daegen answered. “But I won’t stop you from enjoying them, until you’ve had enough. I can even ask some apprentices to share their jokes with you.”

“I think I’ll pass on the last offer,” Acaadi replied. “I’m sure I’ll have much more interesting things to do.”

“I’m sure you will think of something,” Daegen replied. “In fact, you could start thinking now.”


	9. Where Daegen Tackles Bias

The first ex-Stargazer—a human woman named Li Gijja—had refused to even open the door to them. Acaadi found that mostly perplexing—did she think that she could catch Force sensitivity like a flu? She obviously was not thinking very clearly. Or perhaps hoped that they’d be too worried about upsetting the other tenants with the noise breaking her door would make?

So here they were, standing in a hallway that smelled very strongly of detergent, and vaguely of piss underneath. The walls had once been painted in a geometric yellow pattern, but bits of paint had cracked off, exposing the grey wall underneath. Some enterprising locals had taken up to correcting that with graffiti, ranging from quite the stunning portrait of a twi’lek woman to scribbled insults and crude depictions of genitalia.

“You will not tempt me!” Li Gijja yelled.

“You’ve nothing to worry about, you’re the wrong gender for me to even consider tempting you,” Daegen said dryly. “In fact, even if you had been a man, I’d still not be willing to tempt someone who didn't realize that the sooner they answer a Ranger’s questions, the sooner they will leave.”

The door flew open them and Li Gijja burst forth, like a furious pale rancor. Although to be completely accurate, a pale rancor with her face flushed with fury. Her brown braids whipped behind her, and the wide sleeves of her green shirt slid down to her elbows as she raised her hands.

Acaadi caught sight of a slightly cluttered hallway with a dark wooden floor and white walls. There was a mirror next to the door, reflecting a shoe rack and a coat hanger.

“You think I’m so vain and flighty that I'll get upset because a handsome man isn’t interested in me, you smug bastard?” she growled, jabbing her finger into Daegen’s chest.

“No, but I think you’re being rather unimaginative when it comes to insults,” Daegen replied sounding quite unperturbed. “But since you’ve opened the door, you could just let us in.”

Clearly, the woman didn’t find this convincing at all. She took a step back and threw a punch aimed at Daegen’s chin. All things considered, it was a pretty good one, and if it had connected, it might have caused some damage. But it never did—Daegen dodged the hit and grabbed her by the wrist.

“That’s a really bad idea,” Acaadi chided, as he peered at the woman from behind Daegen. “Hasn’t anyone told you that you shouldn’t attack Rangers on duty?”

The woman looked to him and then to Daegen, her features twisting into a mask of rage once more. “You tricked me! You goaded me until-“

“No, actually, I always behave like this,” Daegen said. “And somehow, most people don’t feel like punching me. It seems to me that you might just want to absolve yourself of your own stupidity and pretend you don’t have problems with your temper. And now that we’ve established this—you will come with us.”

The woman shot him another venomous glare, but didn’t resist being led away.

“You interrogate her,” Acaadi said. “I’ll look around.” 

 

* * *

 

If Daegen had expected Li Gijja to be more cooperative once she was an interrogation room, he would have been terribly disappointed. She sat opposite to him, arms crossed over her chest in what was supposed to be a nonchalant pose. It likely would have worked better, if she hadn’t been watching him all the time. Oh, her expression was proudly defiant, but in the end, a show was a show. She wanted him to know she was proudly resisting.

“Do you recognize this man?” Daegen asked, as he pushed a picture of Ark towards her. The racer was grinning in the picture, his expression confident under his short blonde beard.

Gijja glanced at it, her lips twisting for a brief moment in distaste. “No.”

It was a lie. He could sense that much easily. So, he slid forward the next picture—this one of the fortune teller: a middle-aged blue twi’lek with tattoos that likely were meant to be mystical.

“And this woman?”

Gijja stared at the picture with a baffled expression, confusion radiating from her. “No.”

The same happened with the other two victims. Which meant she only recognized the famous racer—something to be expected. So why would she lie about _that_?

“You know this man,” Daegen said. “Why did you lie?”

“Your Force knows everything, doesn’t it?” she asked with a shrug. “And you have it, so you should know everything too. So it doesn’t matter what I say.”

Daegen didn’t even bother stifling his laughter. “Amazing. I didn't know someone could be so wrong. That’s not how the Force works.”

Gijja clearly had not expected that kind of a reaction. “Are you mocking your own religion?”

“Omniscience requires sentience,” Daegen said. “The Force is not sentient. However, for the sake of argument, we can assume that it contains all information that exists at a given moment. Given that some Force sensitives experience visions of the future and all can at least sense when they’re making a bad choice, it’s not an unreasonable assumption.”

The woman was now watching him with a suspicious expression, but she clearly was curious what he was about to say next. Possibly in the hopes that it would turn out to be nonsense which she could shoot down. It really was too bad for her that she was dealing with Daegen, then.

“I’d still not know everything,” Daegen said. “A human mind only stores information that it considers important. We forget things constantly. Secondly, there’s such a thing as being overwhelmed with information. Perhaps you were not aware, but if you put a mind in a situation where there are too many stimuli or they’re too strong, it will refuse to process them. It’s generally an unpleasant experience. And since I’m not screaming my lungs out or shutting down completely, we can therefore assume that the Force is not constantly feeding me every detail ever.”

Gijja shrugged. “Fine. But if you people have visions, than it means your Force has a will, right? So, if it wants you to find out whatever it is you want to find out, it will lead you to it regardless of my cooperation.”

Did the woman really think Daegen would be deterred by such arguments? He might not have been a student at Akar Kesh, but he knew enough to easily notice the flaws in her logic. Not to mention had some personal experience with premonitions.

“We could assume that if visions from the Force always came true,” Daegen replied. “But they don’t.” He paused. “There’s also the matter of your contradicting your own beliefs just now. After all, if the Force could push things into the result it wanted, it’d mean that it can affect anyone. And as far as I understand, you don’t believe it’s affecting you in any way?”

Gijja looked at him with a frown, her mouth set into a thin line, but said nothing.

“Well, I suppose this means you have no counter-argument,” Daegen said. “Good, let us move to the next question. Where were you last Primeday?”

That caught her by surprise, and she asked, “Are you accusing me of something?”

“Not yet,” Daegen replied. “Why? Did you think I brought you here because I enjoy listening to people insult my intelligence and insist I’ve no free will?”

“I did nothing wrong,” the woman said firmly. “You’ve no reason to accuse me of anything, other than your own prejudice against those who’d tell the truth.”

“And here we go again with the fallacies,” Daegen sighed. “Look, either I’ve no free will and you’re speaking with the Force—in which case you should ask yourself why it is bothering with this charade, if it apparently knows everything. Or I have free will and you’re the prejudiced one.”

Gijja took a deep breath. Then another one. She was rather obviously making a show out of trying to stay calm. Daegen took it as a sign that he was putting at least a bit of a dent in her certainty—and he wouldn’t give her the time to rationalize away what he was saying.

“In any case, you can’t really tell if I have free will or if I don’t,” he continue. “In fact, can you prove that you have free will?”

“Of course,” the woman replied with an angry huff. “I’d know if I didn’t.”

“Oh, but I can say the same about myself,” Daegen replied. “And apparently, I don't.”

The woman looked at him with a startled expression. She sat in silence for a while, and it seemed like she was actually considering what he had said.

“I was alone at home,” she finally said.

Which was the worst possible alibi one could have. 

 

* * *

 

Acaadi met with Daegen several hours after they found the first of the ex-Stargazers. He’d made a short stop to pick up some food for both of them, since it was nearing lunch time, and they’d found an unoccupied meeting room where they could eat and compare what they'd found out.

This one was decorated with surprisingly tasteful pictures of various birds in what appeared to be a chase. They formed a line just under the ceiling—the remainder of the wall had been painted a pale lilac.

“She only recognized Ark,” Daegen said, “and doesn’t have an alibi for the time when he was murdered.”

“But?” Acaadi asked, since Daegen looked rather unconvinced.

“I didn’t sense that she was lying when she said she didn’t kill him,” Daegen answered with a grimace.

“I’ve found out that she also had been gathering information about Ark for some time,” Acaadi replied. “But it seems like she was sending it to someone. Maybe she didn’t kill him, but she might have helped plan his murder.”

“You think she was feeding information to one of her friends and they were the murderer?” Daegen asked. Then, without waiting for Acaadi’s input, he continued. “It’s plausible. Did you find anything that’d indicate she knows enough about anatomy to have performed the mutilations?”

Acaadi shook his head. “No manuals on anatomy lying around the place. And none on her devices either. Not that we could have expected her to be helpful.”

“I think I deserve some sort of official commendation for discussing all the nonsense about lack of free will with her and not trying to choke myself out of sheer frustration,” Daegen said. “I think I’ve permanently lost some of my intelligence.”

“It’s a good thing you're so brilliant, then, isn't it?” Acaadi replied with a grin. “No one will notice.”

Daegen chuckled at that. “I’m sure my brain will recover in a while. I might need some more stimulating conversation with another intelligent person.”

“We will have to take care of that later,” Acaadi answered with some regret. “If Gijja was feeding the murderer information, we need to find out who it was.”

“That might not be easy,” Daegen replied. “By now, she's probably rationalized away everything I told her to make her uncertain. She’ll be even more entrenched in her views, now that they’ve been challenged.”

That was not what Acaadi had expected. If anything, he thought Daegen was surprisingly convincing for someone who could be so abrasive. “I’d have assumed she’d have trouble refuting any argument of yours.”

“She won’t be able to refute them,” Daegen replied with absolute certainty. “But challenging someone’s beliefs, if they’re very strong, tends to make them assume you’re attacking them personally. And, well…” He shrugged.

“While I do find you terribly amusing most of the time,” Acaadi said, “if you know that will happen, why haven’t you tried doing something about it?”

Daegen chewed on his food for a while, before saying, “I’ll tell you when I have a good answer for that. Perhaps I really should occasionally restrain myself more.”


	10. Where Daegen Accidentally Invents the Mind Trick

“You can’t just pin this on us,” Li Gijja said stubbornly. “It could be someone who wants your powers and is eating those parts they’re missing for all you know.”

They were once again in the interrogation room, Li Gijja on one side of the table, Acaadi and Daegen on the other. The place was at odds with all the rest of the Ryo complex, given the simple white walls, but then not even the Stallion would be stupid enough to want to distract people from answering law enforcement's questions. At least, Daegen hoped the Stallion wasn’t _that_ stupid.

“I’d take that over it being one of you,” Daegen said dryly. “It might come as a surprise—though after our last conversation, it shouldn’t, if you have a functioning brain—but we actually prefer to interact with people who don’t think we’re evil or puppets of the Force without any free will.”

Acaadi shook his head at him slightly, but it was a bit too late for that. Reining in his tongue was much harder then he’d thought it’d be.

“If one of you has done it,” Acaadi said. “Then we're pinning nothing on anyone.. We’re just revealing the truth. And if none of you murdered anyone, then surely, there is no harm in you telling us who you sent the information about Ark to. After all, there will be no proof they’ve murdered anyone, and besides, we have the Ryo Royal Guard watching over us.”

Gijja hesitated. In fact, throughout the conversation she’d been more desperate to deny them than certain of her own mind. Perhaps Daegen had been too pessimistic in assuming she would reject them completely.

Still, it didn't seem to be enough to make her any easier to talk with. She kept glaring at them and even now, was hesitant to give them any sort of information.

“I’ll tell you, but only if I get a guarantee that someone is really watching over you,” she finally said.

“That can be arranged,” Daegen said resisting the almost overwhelming urge to massage the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I’ll get someone.”

He rose as soon as Acaadi nodded. After all, he was not about to abandon him with the embodiment of nuisance and frustration in human form without making sure he was fine with that. But since he was not protesting, Daegen marched out to find Teyne.

He passed several rooms with guards either working or chatting inside. Four of them were clustered over some board game, very enthusiastically throwing dice every few seconds and breaking into laughter at whatever happened in the game as a result.

Teyne was in an office, reading something on a datapad with a very focused expression. She didn’t even notice Daegen walking in and only raised her head when he knocked on the door frame.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Li Gijja wants official confirmation that the Royal Guard will make sure we’re not framing ex-Stargazers for murder, before she tells us to whom she sent information about Ark,” Daegen replied.

“You’d have thought she’d ask not to be tried for being an accessory to murder instead,” Teyne said.

“Perhaps she’s feeling guilty and does want to stand trial,” Daegen said with a shrug.

“We’ll find out,” Teyne said. “Though if she feels guilty that’s good. I’d rather not have more than one serial killer—and hopefully we will have that one safely behind bars soon enough.” 

 

* * *

 

 

With Teyne present, Gijja had finally revealed that she’d been sending information about Ark to a mirialan man named Vyriann. According to the census from a few years ago, he’d been a butcher before quitting and joining the Stargazers. And now, Daegen and Acaadi would find out if he had been drawn to a different kind of butchery.

Unlike Gijja, he had chosen to move to the edge of the city—an area dominated by small family houses made from white stone. Most of them had gardens, and the sight of some noisy domesticated predator barring its teeth through the fence was also far from a rarity.

Vyriann had joined in the trend, with a shaggy canine that had started barking hysterically as soon as they had approached the gate. Its fear was quickly turning into viciousness, and all of Daegen’s experience with predators from his apprenticeship told him to act before they canine decided to attack them. Though he was not Master Quan-Jang and couldn’t influence animals with the ease that his teacher could, he’d learned enough to calm one at a time.

It was easy enough—a thought that they were friends made the canine sit down and pant placidly, as it watched Acaadi open the gate. Although, perhaps Daegen had overdone it a bit, as it bounded towards them once they were inside and tried to lick his hands.

And people wondered why he really disliked most animals.

“Yes, you’re a very good boy, now go chase your tail or something,” Daegen grumbled, as the canine watched him with a pleading expression. Knowing that type of animal, it likely meant it wanted food. Still, he couldn’t help but to think that being able to influence sentients would sometimes make matters so much easier. “Go hunt something. You can do it.”

The canine refused to listen and kept running around them, until they reached the door, where a thin mirialan man was already waiting. His chin and cheeks were tattooed with the typical diamond pattern, and the dark green stood out just enough from his yellowish skin. In contrast to the rather unappealing rest of his appearance, his hair was a lustrous black and obviously maintained with much care. His bright blue eyes flicked between Daegen and Acaadi and the canine.

“I see Lynnsh likes you,” he said. His voice was slightly nasal—not surprising given that the organ in question had clearly been operated on at least once by someone with insufficient skills.

“I’m very likeable,” Daegen replied turning to Acaadi. “Am I not?”

“Oh yes,” Acaadi said, his voice warm with amusement.

Vyriann didn’t seem to be convinced, but then he was one of the people who managed to believe in something the Stargazers considered a bit too paranoid.

“What do you want?” he asked, and all of a sudden:

_Double vision:_ _Vyriann draws a blaster and shoots—if Daegen takes no action, he’ll take out Acaadi, who seems like the most obvious threat. Daegen has only seconds to act—if he pushes him out of the way, he’ll be wounded and the canine will jump to protect his new friend. Vyriann will die, his throat torn out by his own pet._

Perhaps it was how he'd influenced the canine moments ago that made Daegen choose to act the way he did. Perhaps it was the Force guiding him. He couldn’t really tell.

“Stop!” he barked.

A human mind was so much more complex than the instinct-driven brain of a canine. Thoughts chasing thoughts, words, pictures and emotions mixing and reshaping themselves with every blink of an eye, every motion, every new stimulus. But underneath, there were the ancient impulses driven by electric impulses and hormones.

Vyriann’s mind was not trained. His wants were unbalanced, fear and hate driving so much of his being. It stood no chance when pitted against Daegen’s will that had been forged into iron by years of meditation. His action, though quick, was not dictated by fear or anger, but rather the certainty that it was the best choice at the given moment.

And so, Vyriann stopped.

He stood stock still, one arm hovering over the back of his belt.

“What did you just do?” Acaadi asked, watching Daegen with wide eyes.

“I stopped him from killing you and getting himself killed,” Daegen replied, as he rubbed his forehead. “And now I think I’m going to need to lie down.”

 

* * *

 

Despite what he had said, Daegen had not lain down. Instead, he had been trying to walk through his own thought process to reverse what he’d done and make Vyriann respond. As far as Acaadi could tell, he was not having much luck with reversing what he’d done—or Vyriann was a stunning actor and was waiting for them to assume that he would remain like this forever and leave him, at which point he’d make himself scarce.

“Maybe you should meditate on this,” Acaadi said. “But for now, I think we should call for backup, so the Royal Guard can pick him up and we can search his house.”

Daegen ran his hand over his face, before nodding. “You’re right. I’m sure I could repeat what I did, but undoing it seems to be a lot harder.” He snorted in irritation. “Typical brain problem. The damn things learn to do the stupidest stuff, and getting them to stop can be damn near impossible.”

“I suppose you can’t just tell him to start moving or something?” Acaadi asked.

“No,” Daegen said. “He’s also not responding verbally—I tried checking if he will blink in response, but he doesn’t. Since he’s breathing, I obviously didn’t do anything to his autonomic nervous system, but then I’m-“

“Daegen,” Acaadi said firmly as he put his hands on his shoulders. “Breathe. Stop talking for a moment. Just breathe.”

Daegen looked up at him and Acaadi wondered if he’d protest that he was not babbling and that he was calm, but it seemed that Daegen was even more rattled than Acaadi thought, since he obediently closed his eyes without a word. Then, he sensed Daegen’s emotions settling back into a less turbulent state.

“I’m calling the Royal Guard,” Acaadi continued. “You stay here and wait. You’ll figure it out, but you need to give yourself time, understood?”

Daegen opened his eyes and gave him a wan smile. “I’ll be fine. Now go before you start clucking.”

Acaadi didn’t object. He supposed that if Daegen was back to snarking, even if it was somewhat lacklustre, he was better. Which was a good thing, because Acaadi wasn’t sure how long he would have been able to act calm. There was something unsettling about the idea that someone could affect another sentient being like this.

  

* * *

 

 

By the time the Royal Guard had arrived, Vyriann had started moving again, which was something of a relief. He was still not entirely _there_ , still not responding to questions, but he was at least turning his head towards sudden movements. It made the situation slightly less awkward, though Daegen could have done without having to explain there had been a Force-related accident here.

It wasn’t that he was embarrassed—to be entirely truthful, he was a bit afraid, though curiosity was starting to replace that—but he was keenly aware that it would do nothing to help with the impression made by certain recent statements from Master Rajivari of Akar Kesh.

He could have lied, but given that his command was losing its power over Vyriann, it’d come out and only serve to make the matter look worse. Which meant that by the time the guards left, they were watching him like a loaded blaster that was on fire. It was somewhat overdone, really. It wasn't like Daegen had ever said he’d done it on accident.

Nor had he said that he intended to bend everyone to his will and build some sort of evil empire where everyone bowed to his ego. Not that he minded people acknowledging that he was brilliant, but he preferred if it was based on actual scientific achievements.

And whatever he’d done to Vyriann did not qualify as one yet.

It wouldn’t for a while, probably, though Daegen was not about to just forget what he’d done. Still, he had a job to do for now, and so he joined Acaadi inside Vyriann’s house.

It was a rather disappointing interior. Neither too messy nor too clean, it sort of landed in the plateau of what was expected from a lived-in space. A few pictures that were so generic that their creator had likely had to struggle to remember what they were painting decorated the walls. For a given value of decorating.

Past the hallway, Daegen was forced to reevaluate his opinion on the cleanliness of the house. He had nearly stepped into a large, dried-out puddle of something dark and sweet-smelling. Walking around it was quite inconvenient, given its size. Several pairs of underwear dotted the landscape, one fluttering sadly from a leg of an upturned chair and three simply scattered on the floor.

Daegen spared a moment to contemplate just what kind of person left underwear in their living room, before marching to the next one, where Acaadi was inspecting the floor with a very focused expression.

“Did you find anything?” Daegen asked.

“There’s a cellar underneath, but I’ve yet to find the entrance,” Acaadi replied.

“What about outside?” Daegen answered. It was not the most comfortable configuration, but not unheard of.

“Also no entrance,” Acaadi said. “It has to be hidden here somewhere.”

“Where wouldn’t you look for it?” Daegen asked.

Then, the both turned towards the living room. There was one place.

“The puddle,” Acaadi said.

“Let’s go,” Daegen answered.


	11. Where a Serial Killer's Basement Isn't Very Nice

The amount of work that had gone into hiding the entrance to the cellar was quite staggering. A mere puddle would not have hidden it, after all. There had also been a false layer of floor placed over it—one that could be removed easily and quickly, even more so with the Force.

The cellar itself was oppressively small. The smell of must was thick, and there was a faint scent of rot underneath. A pile of haphazardly stacked old boxes had grown out of one corner to cover much of the floor in a thicket of broken, rotten boards and rusty nails.

The opposite wall, on the other hand, had been repainted recently, and there was a holo-board underneath it, displaying everything from old news articles to a map of the city. Five ghostly blue figures stood there as well, no bigger than Daegen’s hand. Once he and Acaadi had moved closer, they could recognize four of them: Quain Ark smiling roguishly at an unseen audience, the seer with bags of groceries, the foreman holding up a stein full of frothing liquid and finally Jaris Kan glaring sullenly. The fifth person was no one Daegen or Acaadi could recognize: a sullustan boy holding a toy spaceship.

“Kriff,” Acaadi hissed. “Do we have another body lying around somewhere?”

“Let’s take this,” Daegen said and turned to look at the pile of boards. “And check if there’s anything under all of that trash.”

Acaadi nodded, and soon enough both of them were levitating the boards to the side. So far, all that it revealed was more rotting pieces of wood, but in cases like these it was always a good idea to be thorough. It was about half an hour later that something white, long and smooth emerged. More careful digging revealed a small, pathetic skeleton—though as far as Daegen could tell, it was not one belonging to any sentient species found in the Tythos system.

In fact, as far as Daegen’s knowledge of anatomy went, it looked quite like a canine skeleton. A skeleton on which someone had practiced cutting through bone, it seemed, given that the skull had suspiciously regular openings in places where there should be none, and several other bones had been cut in half.

“I think we should take this,” Acaadi said.

“I agree,” Daegen said. “And call for help, again. There might be more evidence here.”

 

* * *

 

Teyne might have been disappointed that the two Rangers had pushed interrogating the latest suspect onto her, if years of being in the Royal Guard had not taught her that she should always expect the worst. And a Ranger discovering mind-control powers while dealing with a Stargazer was definitely on her list of worst things.

The suspect was watching her sullenly, quite obviously unrepentant. She might have had some sympathy for him, had he not been the murderer—after all, being temporarily turned into a living statue likely was terrifying. But given all the evidence, she was less inclined to sympathize with any plight of his.

“So, my little bird, what will you sing for me?” she asked, as she sat down on a chair opposite to the one to which Vyriann was handcuffed. She noted that his tattoos were beginning to fade—something that most mirialans wouldn’t let happen to them.

He continued glaring at her, as if expecting her to be impressed.

“Why don’t you ask your overlords to force whatever they want out of me and be done with it?” the man growled.

It was the kind of answer she could have expected. “The Despot has better things to do than talk with the likes of you. His heir-“

“Is an idiot who will drink himself into an early grave,” Vyriann snorted. “But the other two—don’t you think we know what is brewing? The Ox spends far too much time on Tython in Kaleth studying their poison. And the third is one of _them_.”

“Your point being?” Teyne asked.

She didn’t let it show, but she was well aware that those were not just worries of the frankly insane fringe. The Stallion would be an abysmal despot, likely letting his advisors rule in his place. The Ox was a far better candidate, but for reasons only known to the Despot he’d never been considered as heir. And the rumor that he’d married someone on Tython was not helping his case, either. Of the youngest Ryo, Teyne knew the least, but she was keenly aware that his training on Tython and Force sensitivity would mean that a part of the nobility would suspect he was a puppet of the Tythonian Council.

Perhaps they'd even be right.

But this was not a matter she was ever going to discuss with a religious fanatic, who’d murdered four people and apparently had been planning the murder of a fifth person.

“You can’t be blind to what’s happening,” the man hissed. “They’re planning to take over the whole system.”

“And you’ve decided that the best way to deter the people who live on a world with giant snakes and felines that occasionally set things on fire, and who have magical powers, is killing an old woman and a few idiots?” Teyne asked. “Good job. Splendid even. The two Rangers you’ve met are quivering in fear.”

“You will not be mocking me, when you’re replaced by one of them,” Vyriann growled.

“And that’s why you were planning to kill a _child_?” Teyne asked.

Vyriann didn't appear to be at all fazed. “Better he die now, before the Force uses him like she’s using your friends.”

Teyne wondered how much time the man would have to spend in the company of Daegen Lok to start doubting that the Ranger would be forced to do anything he didn't want to do easily, if at all. To her, the statement seemed quite absurd.

“So the child still lives?” she asked.

Vyriann leaned forward, his eyes wide and imploring. “Please, you have to understand. I’m not doing it out of hate—I want the best for them. You have to free me.”

Teyne rose. She had what she needed—a confession.

“That is not for me to decide,” she said. “You will have to trust in the court’s mercy. And I doubt they will be inclined to grant you any.”

 

* * *

 

Sheeriss’s flat was fairly small, especially given that she shared it with her wife and a daughter, and had apparently been attempting to change it into a library. Books made of flimsi were slow to completely go out of fashion, even with the popularity of datapads. There was always that one and another one you’d want to be able to hold in your hands.

Acaadi had managed to take up almost the entirety of the sofa, so Daegen had to content himself with a chair—there was no way both of them could squeeze onto the sofa together. Well. Calling it a sofa was more of a politeness then anything—it was more of a long armchair.

“And that’s how I ended up with a broken horn and a future wife,” Sheeriss said, as she pushed a plate of cookies towards Daegen. Acaadi had been given satays and seemed to be quite content with them. “Not a bad trade off, wouldn’t you say?”

“No, not at all,” Acaadi chuckled, “but I was promised embarrassing stories about Daegen.”

“There aren’t any,” Daegen replied with a shrug.

Sheeriss laughed then. “That’s good to know. I can tell the one about the flour in the bathroom, then?”

“Really, why should I be ashamed of my curiosity?” Daegen asked.

“He clogged the bathtub with water and flour,” Sheeriss explained. “Apparently, he wanted to know if he could walk on it.”

Acaadi chuckled. “I guess this is easier to clean on a child without fur,” he commented.

“I still don’t see why this is meant to be an embarrassing story,” Daegen said shaking his head. “Children are curious, and I was both intelligent and curious. It stands to reason that my attempts to learn about the world would be grander.” Then after a moment he added, “Besides, I’d have been able to walk on it, if I’d had a larger container to fill with oobleck.”

“He does have a point, Sheeriss,” Sheeriss’s wife—Ruwen—said. She was a little taller and more plump than Sheeriss, not to mention had kept both of her horns intact.

“He also has an ego made of duranium, just like his mother,” Sheeriss said. “It was really amusing how alike they’ve been. Supposedly, she did the same thing—except she was trying to find out what will happen if it’s… I forget, something with sound.”

“And there we go,” Daegen chuckled. “The obligatory you’re-just-like-the-parent-I-know. And I don’t have ‘an ego’. I’m just that smart.”

Acaadi patted his shoulder then. “You’re very smart, and you also have an ego.”

 

* * *

 

There was still trouble ahead, but fortunately, it was out of Daegen’s and Acaadi’s hands now. Whoever would prosecute and defend Vyriann would bear the brunt of it. At worst, they’d be called to testify, so they needed to stay available for the Shikaakwan judiciary—but that simply meant being somewhere where a holocall could be easily made.

In short, they could take a vacation.

“Kalimahr will have some place where you can lie around in the sun,” Acaadi said. They were once again on his ship, sitting in front of a holo—but this time, it was displaying various holiday spots.

At first, Daegen wanted to point out that it didn’t sound particularly interesting, but quickly reconsidered. He’d had _plenty_ of interesting just recently, and he had some reading to do. Who said he couldn’t do that on a beach?

“I'm sure there are several such places,” Daegen replied as he took a sip of herbal tea. It was a Shikaakwan blend, one that his mother would still buy when given the chance. To be fair, Daegen did so as well. “Would you mind some company?”

“Depends on the company,” Acaadi replied with a grin. “Who do you have in mind?”

“Myself, obviously,” Daegen answered matching Acaadi’s grin with his own. He put down the mug and rose from his chair, to walk over to where the other Ranger was standing.

“And what type of company are you?” Acaadi laughed.

“Distracting,” Daegen said, as slid his arms around Acaadi’s waist. “And since just lying in the sun is boring, I’m sure you will be glad for some distraction.”

“Aren’t you getting started a bit early?” Acaadi answered, as he slid his hand down Daegen’s back.

“You don’t seem to mind,” Daegen replied.

“I suppose you’re not just distracting, but also very convincing,” Acaad replied. “What can I say?”

“Yes?” Daegen answered quickly.

Acaadi burst out laughing then. “Fine, yes. I was going to ask you anyway, but this way was a lot more amusing.”


End file.
